Watch Out For Sammy
by curlybean
Summary: Sometimes watching out for Sammy is a hard job. What happens when Dean messes up and isn't able to protect his little brother? This is a Weechester fic and contains mention of parental discipline in the form of spanking. Dean is 11, Sam is 7.
1. Chapter 1

Watch Out For Sammy

* * *

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the amazing Eric Kripke and the very fine people of Warner Brothers/The CW. I am merely playing in their sandbox. No copyright infringement intended.

 _Author's note: This is my first attempt at writing a younger Dean and Sam story. In this one, Dean is 11 and Sam is 7. There will be mentions of parental spanking in this fic, but no details. Just so you know._

* * *

Dean was waiting outside of Sam's classroom when the final bell of the day rang. He had an arrangement with his teacher that allowed him to leave his own classroom early enough to make sure that he was there when Sam came out of his classroom. All it cost him was the pain and agony of sitting still in his seat and not distracting his classmates during his teacher's lectures on American History. His teacher, Mr. Daniels, thought he was getting the better end of the bargain, but Dean knew better. He would do anything to be able to look out for his little brother.

The reason he found it so important to be there when Sam's classroom door opened stemmed from something that had happened at their last school. Dean had no idea at the time, of course, but _something_ his dad was hunting in the town they were in had set his eyes on Sammy. John didn't know this either, but he was paranoid enough to make sure Dean knew the importance of never leaving Sam alone.

Sam knew he wasn't supposed to leave the classroom by himself, either, but one afternoon his teacher had ushered him out of the classroom before Dean had arrived. Those few minutes of being left alone in a rapidly emptying corridor was all it took for the shapeshifter to make his move. If Dean hadn't been running as fast as he could to make it to his brother's classroom, he wouldn't have seen his brother walking off with the principal, Mr. Morrison. And if Dean hadn't been called into the principal's office just an hour before for acting up in class, he wouldn't have known that the man was leaving immediately for a dentist appointment.

 _So, what was he doing leading Sam off down the corridor?_

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he ran towards his little brother. "Sam, where are you going?"

Sam turned around at the sound of Dean's panicked voice and tried to pull away from Mr. Morrison. Dean could only watch as the man gripped his brother's arm even tighter.

"Mr. Winchester, your brother is coming with me."

"No, he's not! Sam, come here!"

By this time, Sam was starting to cry and Dean felt like joining him. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew that the man holding onto his brother wasn't Mr. Morrison. And he knew he had to do whatever he could to get his brother away from him. Running forward, he grabbed Sam's other arm and pulled as hard as he could. The man looked surprised at what was happening, but he wasn't about to give up so easily. Neither was Dean.

Dean kicked the man in the shin as hard as he could while continuing to pull on Sam's arm. The man let out a string of curse words as Dean went in for a second kick. Before he could do anything else, Dean swept the man's feet out from under him, causing him to drop to the floor. Unfortunately, he took Sam down with him.

Dean didn't waste any time, though. Moving in quickly, he grabbed Sam around the waist and pulled him to his feet. Before he took off down the hall, he aimed one more kick at the man who was trying to get to his feet, landing his shoe squarely in the middle of the man's back.

By the time Dean and Sam were rounding the corner, a crowd of people were heading in their direction, obviously led there by the sounds of Sam's cries.

"Dean! Sam! What's going on?" Sam's teacher yelled as she took in the sight of them running frantically down the hall. She reached for Sam, but the little boy was latched onto his brother tightly. "Dean?"

"Someone tried to take Sammy, Miss Whitley! He grabbed him and took him away."

"Who was it?" she asked.

"It was Mr. Morrison," Sam sobbed. "He hurt me!"

"Mr. Morrison?" she asked incredulously.

"It wasn't him, Sammy. It just looked like him," Dean explained.

"Of course it wasn't Mr. Morrison," Miss Whitley said. "He wouldn't do something like that."

As the woman steered the two boys towards the office, a few of the other teachers took off down the hall, hoping to catch up with whoever had tried to take Sam. Dean allowed Miss Whitley to lead them down the hall, his hands grasping Sam tighter than ever. Now that his little brother was safe, he could feel the trembling starting to take over his body. Sam was still crying and Dean wanted to cry, too.

Once they were in the office, Dean sat down on a bench, letting Sam crawl up into his lap. Miss Whitley quickly informed the office staff of what had happened, instructing them to call the police and John Winchester, before turning back to Sam and Dean.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt either of you?"

"He hurt my arm," Sam cried as he held out his arm for his teacher to see. Dean wasn't surprised to see Sam's upper arm covered in what was sure to be bruises very soon.

"How about you, Dean? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered.

"Dean…"

"I'm fine," Dean answered again. "I just wanna take my brother home."

At that moment, the school secretary came back out to tell Miss Whitley that it would be at least two hours before John Winchester could be there. "Well, it looks like we'll have to wait here for a while. Why don't we move down to the teacher's break room? It will be a little more comfortable there and we can maybe find some snacks."

"We can just go home," Dean said.

"Dean, you need to stay here until your dad gets here, okay? I can't send you home alone. Besides, the police will be here soon and they'll want to hear what happened."

"The police are coming?" Dean asked in a panic, knowing his dad wouldn't be happy with that.

"Sweetie, someone tried to hurt Sammy. The police need to know what happened so they can find the man that did this."

Dean knew he couldn't argue that point with her. She wouldn't understand that this wasn't something for the police to handle. This was definitely a job for a hunter.

* * *

By the time John Winchester showed up at the school, Sam had fallen asleep on the sofa in the teacher's lounge, his head resting comfortably in his brother's lap. Dean was exhausted himself, but no matter how tired he was, he wasn't about to take his eyes off of his little brother. Instead, he sat as still as he could, one hand gripping Sam's shirt, as he watched him sleep. _It was all his fault. If he hadn't been late getting to Sam's classroom, none of this would have happened._

The police had already been there to question both of the boys and were still hanging around to talk to their dad when he arrived. Dean had been scared when they were questioning him, but he told them what had happened without admitting that the man looked exactly like Mr. Morrison. He _knew_ that it wasn't the principal, but how could he explain to the cops that the man looked _exactly_ like him? They wouldn't understand.

John barreled through the door, his eyes immediately falling on his boys. He wasn't surprised to see Sam sleeping soundly or Dean sitting protectively next to his brother, wide awake and alert. In fact, he would have been disappointed if that hadn't been the case.

"Dean?" he called out loudly. "Report!"

"Dad!" Dean gently worked his way out from under Sam's head, coming to stand up in front of his dad.

"What happened?" John growled.

"I'm sorry, Dad. It's all my fault."

"We'll talk about that later, son. I just need to know what happened."

Dean told his dad everything that had happened, looking around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him say that he thought it was some kind of monster that had taken Sam. John thought that maybe Dean was mistaken, his active imagination getting the best of him, but after Dean explained his reasoning, he was starting to believe him. Quickly turning to look at the young teacher that had been watching over his boys, he asked her where the principal was.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winchester. Principal Morrison had a dental procedure scheduled for this afternoon. He left the school around 1:30 for his 2:00 appointment. He's been notified of what's happened, but he's at home recuperating from his procedure."

John spent the next twenty minutes talking with the police, getting caught up on what they were doing to catch the guy who had so easily walked into an elementary school without anyone questioning him. Eventually, he was ready to take his boys home, much to Dean's relief.

John walked over to the sofa and gently picked up his youngest son. Sam opened his eyes and stared sleepily up at his dad. "Daddy? Is that really you?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's me, kiddo. We're going home."

"Where's Dean?' Sam asked as he looked around.

"I'm right here, Sammy," Dean answered as he stepped out from behind his dad.

"Okay, we can go home now, Daddy." Sam snuggled further into his dad's chest, his eyes planted firmly on his brother as they walked out the door.

* * *

Once they were back in the motel room, John laid down the salt lines at the windows and door before opening up a few cans of ravioli. Dean led Sam into the bathroom to take a bath. Dean nearly cried when he saw the state of Sam's arms again. The bruises were really starting to show and they looked painful. Dean also noticed a bruise on Sam's left knee from when the man fell to the floor with him.

"That hurts," Sam said when Dean ran the wash cloth over his arm.

"I'm sorry, dude. I'll be more careful."

"My knee hurts, too, Dean."

"I know, Sammy. You have a big bruise right there."

"Why did Mr. Morrison try to take me away, Dean?"

Dean stopped washing Sam's back and looked him in the eye. "That wasn't Mr. Morrison, Sam. I already told you that, remember?"

"But he looked just like him!"

"I know he did, but it wasn't him. I promise."

"Is he gonna come back for me?"

"NO!" Dean yelled. "No, Sammy, I promise. I won't let him get you, okay? I promise."

"I'm scared," Sam sniffled.

"It's okay, Sammy. I'm right here. You don't have to be scared. And Dad's home, remember? He'll protect us."

Sam gave his brother a small grin. "Okay, Dean."

Dean quickly finished washing Sam and then pulled him out of the tub, enveloping him in a clean towel. After drying him off, Dean helped him into his favorite pajamas. "Let's go get some dinner, okay? Dad's waiting for us."

Dean led Sam into the small kitchenette, helping his brother get settled in his chair before settling himself into the one right next to him. John eyed both of his boys as he ladled ravioli into the bowls in front of them.

"Dean, there are a few cans of root beer left in the fridge. Can you get them?"

Dean quickly grabbed the root beer, returning to his brother's side as fast as he could. This, of course, didn't escape John's notice.

Once they were done with dinner, John allowed the boys to watch some TV while he stepped outside and made a few calls to Bobby and Caleb. Dean curled up on the couch with Sam right next to him. Sam wanted to watch a rerun of Scooby Doo that Dean had seen a hundred times, but he didn't have the heart to argue. _Whatever made Sammy happy…_

* * *

It wasn't long before Sam had fallen asleep again. Dean stared down at his little brother, anxiety creeping into him as he thought about what could have happened if that man had gotten away with his brother. Dean would never forgive himself for being late to pick Sam up. He knew his dad would be angry at him for that, too, but he didn't even care. In his mind, he deserved to be punished. He was responsible for Sam and it was his fault that the monster was able to get to him.

When John was finished making his calls, he walked back in to find Sam asleep and Dean watching his brother closely. He took a few seconds to take in the scene before him, wondering what he was going to do about the situation. He still didn't know the complete story from Dean, but with the way the kid was acting, he knew that Dean felt responsible for what had happened.

Stepping over to the couch, John ruffled Dean's short hair before gently taking Sam into his arms. "I'm just going to put him on the bed, son. And then you and I can have a little talk."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

John placed Sam down on the bed he was sharing with his brother and pulled the blanket up around him. He bent down and gave Sam a kiss on the top of his head, not surprised when the kid didn't stir at all. Dean, on the other hand, had always been a light sleeper, waking up at the slightest movement. John knew that was partially his fault for always telling Dean it was his job to watch over his brother. And Dean usually did such a good job at that.

Stepping back over to the couch, John took a seat next to Dean. He grabbed the remote for the small TV and turned it off before turning to look at his son. Dean was staring down at his hands that were resting in his lap, his back as stiff as a board.

"Okay, kiddo….tell me what happened."

Dean started at the beginning, telling John that he had been late to pick up Sammy because his teacher asked him to stay after class for a few minutes. John didn't miss the fact that Dean glossed over the reason why he had been held back. Once Dean was finished, John had a few questions.

"What makes you think it wasn't actually Mr. Morrison, son? You and Sammy both said it looked exactly like him."

"It wasn't him, Dad. I saw him leave the school way before the bell rang. He had a dentist appointment."

"How did you see him leave the school if you were in class?"

Dean knew he had walked himself right into a corner with no way of escaping.

"Dean?"

"I…uh… I got sent to the principal's office," Dean admitted.

"For what?"

"Dad, it wasn't my fault. Jeremy Arnold wouldn't stop messing with Jordan, so I made him stop."

"What do you mean you made him stop? What did you do?"

Dean went back to staring at his hands, but John's command to bring his eyes up echoed in the small room. Quickly bringing his eyes up to meet his dad's, Dean continued.

"I told him to leave Jordan alone, but he wouldn't so I knocked his paper off of his desk. When he got up to get it, I…. um, I pushed his desk into him and he fell over. Mrs. Nichols saw me do it and she sent me to the office for dis… um, disrupting the class."

"We'll come back to that in a minute, Dean. Now, why were you so late getting to Sam's classroom?"

Dean's eyes fell again, but he swiftly brought them back up. "Mrs. Nichols wanted to talk to me about what happened. She said she was disappointed that I chose to do that to Jeremy and she assigned me some extra homework. It was only a few minutes, Dad. And then I ran all the way to Sam's classroom as fast as I could. Usually Miss Whitley lets him stay in the room until I get there, but she didn't today. Sam said she had a meeting to go to or something."

John ran his hand over his face and through his hair. He had no idea how to handle this situation, so he was at a total loss as to what to do. But, looking at Dean's crestfallen face, he knew he had to do something. Before he could make up his mind or say anything, though, Dean did.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really, really sorry. It's my fault that this happened to Sammy." Dean couldn't stop the tears that started down his face.

"Dean, this isn't your fault, okay? Who's to say the man wouldn't have just taken you both if he had the chance. It's not your fault that he tried to take Sammy."

"But, I should have been there, Dad. I should have been there when Sam walked out of that classroom. If I hadn't got in trouble, none of this would have happened."

"Dean, we don't know that. Like I said, he could have just taken both of you. But, you did misbehave today, so we do need to talk about that."

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, how many times have I told you that you need to control your impulses? If you're going to be a hunter, you have to be able to control yourself, son. You can't get angry and do the first thing that comes to mind. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered miserably.

"How many times have we had this conversation, son?"

Dean shrugged, but quickly answered after John cleared his throat in irritation. "I don't know, Dad. A lot?"

"Yeah," John sighed. "A lot." John knew that his oldest was going to be a phenomenal hunter one day, but the boy definitely needed to learn how to control his impulses. It was one thing to have good instinct and good reflexes, but impulsivity could be downright dangerous if not controlled.

"And what did I say would happen if we had to have this conversation again?"

"Dad…" Dean groaned.

"Dean, you know how I feel about having the same conversations over and over again. You need to learn, son."

"I'm sorry, Dad. It won't happen again, I promise."

"Let's make sure of that, okay?"

* * *

John hated to spank his boys, but he'd do it again and again if he thought it would work to keep them alive. Neither Sam nor Dean was a stranger to being taken over his knee. Especially Dean. John figured he and Mary should have just used Trouble as a middle name for their firstborn.

John was definitely not one to lecture while he was spanking, but he always made sure the boys knew why they were being punished. This time, John wanted to make sure that Dean knew he was only being punished for his misbehavior in the classroom and that it had nothing to do with the fact that some monster had tried to kidnap Sam. After explaining this as clearly as he could to his son, John wasted no time in getting the job done. More than anything, he wanted to be able to put Dean to bed, so he could figure out what the hell had happened that day.

By the time John was done, Dean was crying quietly. He didn't think he had been too harsh with the boy and knew that Dean's tears were mostly from the guilt he felt from the day's events. John had no idea how to get Dean to believe that he wasn't at fault for what happened. He had hoped that punishing him would alleviate some of it, but he wasn't sure that had happened.

Dean wasn't usually one to allow a lot of post-spanking comfort from his dad, but this time he allowed himself to be pulled in for a hug. John gave Dean a few minutes to collect himself before pulling himself away. Looking down at Dean, though, he could tell that the boy still felt guilty.

"Dean, I want you to listen very closely to me, okay? I know I expect a lot from you. I know I tell you over and over again to watch out for your brother and I know you take that job really serious. And you do a great job of it. You're always looking out for him and I'm really proud of you, kiddo. You take care of him when I can't and I'm sorry you have to do that. I know it's not fair, but it is what it is, right?"

Dean gave a slight nod of his head, showing that he was listening.

"I know you didn't mean to get in trouble today and I know you would never do anything to put Sam in harm's way. You made a mistake and you were punished for it. That's it. End of story."

Dean still didn't look convinced, so John tried another tact.

"Dean, would you be feeling so guilty if you had arrived on time to Sammy's classroom and the man was still there to try to take him?"

"No, sir," Dean answered quietly.

"So you feeling guilty is all because you weren't where you were supposed to be because you got into trouble, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. I want you to remember this lesson the next time you find yourself in a situation like this. If anything, it will prevent you from being late again which will prevent you from feeling guilty. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll try, Dad," Dean said sincerely.

"I know you will, kiddo. Now, what do you say you take a quick shower and head to bed? It's been a long day."

"Yes, sir."

Before Dean could leave, John pulled him in for another hug. "Don't forget to brush your teeth."

"I won't," Dean said. "We have the good toothpaste now, instead of that crap you bought the last time."

"Watch your mouth, boy," John said with a smile as he watched Dean take off for the bathroom.

* * *

By the time Dean crawled into bed next to his brother, John was outside again, making more phone calls. Dean knew that his dad was really worried about whatever it was that had tried to take Sammy. He also knew that the man would do whatever he could to protect his sons.

Dean crawled under the blanket and settled himself quickly. He was just about to doze off when Sam rolled over and curled up against him, his cold feet somehow making their way under the hem of Dean's t-shirt. Dean moved himself away, turning to face his brother in the process. He was surprised to see Sam's eyes staring at him, glowing somewhat in the moonlight that was streaming in through a break in the window curtain.

"What are you doing awake, Sammy?"

"I heard you crying, Dean. Are you okay?"

"I'm good, Sam."

"Did Daddy spank you, Dean?" Sam very rarely heard his brother cry and the times he had were usually when Dean was being punished.

"Come on, dude," Dean tried to change the subject. "Why don't I read you a story so you can go back to sleep?"

"I don't want a story," Sam said sullenly. "Why did Daddy spank you, Dean? Is it because you weren't there to pick me up? Because that's not fair."

"That's not why, Sammy. I got in trouble at school, okay? Mrs. Nichols sent me down to the principal's office. That's why Dad punished me."

"What did you do?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Can we just go to sleep? It's been a long day."

"Okay," Sam said. He was quiet for several minutes, but just as Dean was dozing off, he spoke again. "Thanks for saving me, Dean."

Dean felt another surge of guilt shoot through him at Sam's words, thinking that he wouldn't have had to save his brother if he had just been there on time. Pushing that guilt aside, he looked down at Sam. "That's what I'm here for, Sammy. It's my job to watch out for you, remember?"

* * *

Author's note: Well, I thought I'd try my hand at a little Weechester story. Not sure if this will be just a one-shot or maybe more. What do you all think?

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story and whether or not I should continue. And for those of you reading Meet Me on the Battlefield, I should have another chapter up by Christmas.


	2. Best Laid Plans

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 2

Best Laid Plans

* * *

John woke Dean up the next morning at seven o'clock, telling him to wake Sam up and be ready for breakfast in twenty minutes. As soon as the door closed behind his dad, who had gone to get breakfast from the nearby diner, Dean jumped out of bed and got dressed. Once he was done, he gathered his brother's clothes before turning to wake him up.

"Sammy, it's time to get up," he said as he gently shook the boy's shoulder. Sam groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the blanket up over his head. Dean grabbed the blanket and jerked it back down, exposing Sam to the cold, morning air.

"Come on, Sam! Dad's gonna be back soon and he'll be mad if you're not ready."

"I'm not going, Dean."

"What do you mean you're not going?! It's school, Sammy."

"I don't wanna go."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam loved school so much that he got mad every Saturday morning when Dean told him that it wasn't a school day. Dean reached over and laid the back of his hand against Sam's forehead. "No fever," he said more to himself than to Sam. "Are you feeling sick?"

"No," Sam answered. "I just don't want to go."

"Sammy, you have to go. There's no way Dad's gonna let us stay home today."

Dean was surprised to see Sam's eyes well up with tears. "Hey," he said as he sat down on the bed next to him. "Is this about what happened yesterday? Because if it is, I understand, Sam. I know you're scared, but it's okay. I won't let anything happen to you and neither will Dad."

"But what if you're late again, Dean? What if that bad man comes back and he takes me away? I'll miss you so much, Dean." By this time Sam was fully crying and Dean was desperately trying to find a way to calm him down. Unfortunately, John walked back into the room before Dean could get his little brother to stop crying.

"What's going on?" John asked gruffly.

Sam started crying even harder when he heard his dad's voice and Dean suddenly found his arms full of his little brother.

"Dean?"

"Sammy doesn't want to go to school today, Dad."

"Why not? Is he sick?"

"I don't think so," Dean answered, hoping that his dad would pick up on the real reason for Sam's tears without Dean having to tell him.

"Sam? What's wrong, kiddo? Why don't you want to go to school?"

Sam just buried himself deeper into Dean's chest, his arms squeezing so tightly that Dean found it hard to breathe.

"Somebody better answer me before my coffee gets cold," John said.

Dean could tell he was getting annoyed. "He's scared, Dad. Of what happened yesterday."

Dean saw a flicker of something unusual cross John's face. It almost looked like guilt, but Dean had no idea why his father would feel guilty. Before he could figure it out, John lifted Sam out of his arms and set him down on the ground.

"Sam, stop crying," he said, which only led to Sam crying even harder.

"Dad…"

"Stay out of this, Dean. Your brother needs to learn to face his fears. Staying here and crying about it isn't going to solve anything."

"Dad, he's just a kid…"

"I said stay out of it," John growled. Dean's words didn't escape his notice, though. In fact, the words forced another surge of guilt to flow through him. It was obvious that Dean didn't place himself in the same category as his little brother, even though he was only eleven years old himself. It also didn't escape his notice that Dean moved closer to his little brother, almost placing himself in front of him.

"Dean, go set the table for breakfast while I talk to your brother."

"Dad…"

"Damn it, Dean! That's an order!"

"Yes, sir," he replied after a few seconds pause.

Dean walked over to the small table and started pulling containers out of the paper bag sitting there. The whole time he did that, he was watching his father closely. He knew that his dad would never do anything to hurt either of them, but he also knew that he wouldn't hesitate to lay down a few smacks on either of their backsides, if he thought it necessary. The last thing Dean wanted was to watch his little brother get a spanking. It wasn't Sam's fault that he was scared.

Dean was relieved a few seconds later to see Sam take off his pajamas and start pulling on his school clothes. He hadn't been able to hear what his Dad had said to his brother, but he was happy that things seemed to be moving along.

Once he had everything ready on the table, a sniffling Sam pulled out his chair and sat down. Dean could tell that his little brother was still upset, but he was proud of him for facing his fears. Looking through the containers, Dean picked out the best-looking pancakes and the meatiest pieces of bacon and placed them on Sam's plate.

"Here you go, Sammy. The bacon's nice and crisp, just like you like it."

Sam picked up a piece of bacon and hesitantly ate it. Every now and again a hiccup interrupted his chewing, and Dean could tell that he was trying his hardest not to cry again.

"Dad, what if Sammy and I stayed home today and got some extra training in? You said last week that you were ready to introduce Sammy to some sparring, remember?"

"You're going to school, Dean."

"It won't hurt us to miss one day, Dad. Besides, I think there's a stupid assembly today anyway."

"Dean, I don't want to have to say this again, so listen closely. You and your brother are going to school today. I've had enough of your behavior this morning."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered as he returned to picking at his breakfast.

"And eat your breakfast. Both of you. I don't want to see a single crumb left on your plates."

* * *

John knew he was being hard on his boys, but he couldn't help it. He had been on the phone to Bobby and Jim for hours the night before, trying to figure out the what and why of Sam's attempted kidnapping. Once he finally went to bed he hadn't slept very well, at all. His head was now hurting and it was only getting worse with Sam's crying and Dean's attitude.

Plus, he felt helpless. And if there was one thing John Winchester hated, it was feeling helpless. Knowing that someone had tried to kidnap his son and that he hadn't been there to stop it was almost too much for him. Knowing that it had been up to his eleven year old son to thwart the attack was even worse. What would he have done if the man (or creature or whatever it was) had taken Sam? What if he had taken both of his sons? The thought made John's blood run cold.

Sending the boys back to school so soon was cruel, but John didn't have a choice. He had things he needed to do and he couldn't do them if he was worried about his boys. Dean and Sam had been left alone before, of course, but never when he knew for a fact that someone or something was after them. So, John planned on having a talk with the principal and with the boys' teachers, making sure that neither of them were ever left alone. He knew that Dean would balk at this arrangement, but the boy would just have to deal with it.

* * *

Dean couldn't believe what his dad had done. Once they got to school, John had taken both of them to the principal's office, making them wait outside while he talked with Mr. Morrison. Sam and Dean sat on the bench just outside of the office, both wondering what their dad was up to. Sam was practically sitting in Dean's lap, but he didn't mind. He knew that his little brother was still really scared and it was his job to take care of him.

Dean hated the way the adults in the office kept looking at them. He could tell that they were all feeling sorry for him and Sam and it rankled it. _He didn't need their pity. He could take care of himself and his little brother, thank you very much._

By the time the door to the principal's office opened, Dean had had enough of their pitiful gazes. He was just about to stand up and tell them all to mind their own business, when his father walked back out of the office.

"Dean, Sam, I need you to listen up. Mr. Morrison and I have decided that the two of you will be accompanied everywhere you go by an adult today. That means you're not to go off anywhere by yourself, do you understand?"

"What?! Why?" Dean blurted out. "That's stupid."

"Because I said so, Dean, and watch your mouth."

"Dad, that's not fair. I can take care of myself and you know it."

"The decision has been made, Dean. I don't want to hear anymore about it. Your teachers will escort you from class to class. You're to eat your lunch with your teachers and you'll stay inside during recess. Until we figure out what happened yesterday, this is how it's going to be."

Kneeling down on one knee, John addressed his youngest. "Do you understand, Sammy?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered in a small voice. "But what if I have to go to the bathroom, Daddy?"

"Someone will take you to the bathroom, Sam."

"Okay, Daddy. Did you hear that, Dean?"

"I heard," Dean growled, earning him a glare from his dad.

"Don't go anywhere without an adult," he reiterated as he looked at each of his sons. "I mean it, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

By the middle of the day, Dean was going crazy. Having to stay glued to the side of adults all day was driving him crazy. He hated the way his classmates were looking at him. He knew that by now they had all heard about what had happened the day before and there were rumors flying around everywhere. The general consensus was that Dean had gotten in trouble for what had happened and was now being punished by having to stay with an adult at all times.

The worst part of it, though, was that he hadn't been able to check on his brother all day. On a normal day, Dean was able to walk by Sam's classroom several times, checking to make sure that everything was okay. Dean knew that if he asked Mrs. Nichols to take him by Sam's classroom, she would, but Mrs. Nichols had called in sick that day, leaving her class with old Mrs. Simmons as a substitute.

By the time the afternoon recess rolled around, Dean had had it. He had been forced to eat his lunch next to Mrs. Simmons, who thought it socially acceptable to eat a sardine sandwich in front of him. He had also been forced to sit in the classroom with her during recesses, listening to her go on and on about how his grades simply were not acceptable. After lecturing him for several minutes, she pulled out several missing assignments and made him catch them up. _Could his day get any worse?_

Dean had tried to avoid the inevitable trip to the bathroom for as long as he could, but he finally couldn't wait any longer. The rest of his class had gone out to the playground for the last recess and Dean found himself squirming in his seat.

"Mrs. Simmons, I really have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Simmons answered. "Why don't we see if Mr. Morrison is available to take you, Dean?"

"I can't wait that long, Mrs. Simmons. I really have to go."

Realizing for the first time just how much squirming Dean was doing, Mrs. Simmons led him to the nearest bathroom, which happened to be a faculty bathroom. Dean wasn't so sure that she wasn't going to follow him into the bathroom, so he was relieved when she allowed him to go in by himself. After checking to make sure it was empty, of course.

Dean immediately took care of his business and was washing his hands when he noticed the large window on the opposite end of the bathroom. Without hesitating, he ran over to the window and opened it up just enough to wiggle his body through. Seconds later, he was outside on the ground, making his way to Sam's classroom. He didn't care how much trouble he got into. _He needed to make sure that Sammy was okay. He had to watch out for Sammy._

* * *

Author's note: Well, I decided to carry on a bit more with this story. I've decided that little Dean and Sam are so much fun to write. I just hope that I'm doing them justice and keeping them at least somewhat in character.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the story so far. And thanks for reading. Take care.


	3. Oft Go Astray

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 3

* * *

For all the fuss he had put up about going to school that morning, Sammy was having a great day. Of course, he really missed Dean and he was still a little scared that someone would try to take him again, but he didn't let that stop him from having fun.

Having to stay by his teacher's side all the time wasn't a big deal to Sam. In fact, he loved spending time with Miss Whitley. When all the other kids went outside for recess, Sam stayed inside with her, helping her get ready for their next lesson or getting a head start on his homework. Miss Whitley didn't seem to mind all the questions he asked her and he never tired of hearing her explain things to him.

He was hoping to catch sight of Dean at lunch, but he didn't see his brother anywhere. Sam knew that Dean liked his teacher, but he also knew that his brother wouldn't like the feeling of being babysat every second of the day. He just hoped that Dean wouldn't do anything stupid.

All of his hopes went out the window when the door to the classroom suddenly flew open and his brother burst into the room. At first, Sam thought that the bad man was coming to take him away again and he couldn't help the tears that sprang forth at the thought. Once he realized that it was his brother, he thought that maybe someone was after him instead. Either way, the frayed nerves that Sam had been able to keep at bay for most of the day suddenly came completely undone and he suddenly found himself hiding under his desk.

"Dean Winchester!" he heard Miss Whitley exclaim loudly. "What on earth are you doing?!"

Dean, whose eyes hadn't found his little brother yet, looked wildly around the room, his breaths coming in heaving gasps. "Where is he? Where's Sammy?" he yelled. Not seeing his brother in the room caused a panic like he had never felt before rush through him. _What if he was too late? What if the monster had already taken Sam?_

"Dean, calm down," Miss Whitley said as she came around the desk, stopping in front of the rather distraught boy. "Sam's fine. I think you scared him when you burst in, so he's hiding under his desk."

Miss Whitley pointed over to a row of desks and Dean's eyes quickly followed. He could barely make out one of Sam's feet sticking out from under the desk and at the same time, he heard the sound of his brother crying.

"Sammy!" Dean cried as he moved over to his brother. "Hey, Sammy, it's okay. I'm here. You can come out from under there, okay?"

When Sam didn't make any move to come out from under the desk, Dean knelt down on the floor and crawled over to his brother. Sam scooted over a little to make room for his brother, leaving Miss Whitley to watch from above.

"Dean! You scared me!" Sam accused. "I thought you were the bad man coming to get me again."

Dean pulled his hand up inside his sleeve and used it to wipe the tears from Sam's face. He wasn't surprised when Sam scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his shirt. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to check on you before Mrs. Simmons realized I was gone."

Sam looked up at his brother in awe. "You ran away from your teacher? Dad's gonna kill you, Dean. He said we had to stay with a grown up all day, remember?"

"I don't care, Sammy. I had to make sure you were okay."

By this time, Miss Whitley figured she should intervene, thinking that poor Mrs. Simmons was probably really worried. "Okay, boys… I need you to come out from under there, please." Once they were both out from under the desk and standing in front of her, Miss Whitley looked sternly at the oldest Winchester. "Dean, how did you get away from Mrs. Simmons?"

Dean looked guiltily up at the teacher. "I had to go to the bathroom and there were windows," he admitted easily. He didn't see any reason to go into more detail.

"Where was Mrs. Simmons?"

"She was waiting outside the door. I had to use the teacher's bathroom, so she made sure it was empty and then let me go in by myself."

"Dean, she's probably really worried about you. How long have you been gone?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Just long enough to run here, I guess. Miss Whitley, I know I wasn't supposed to run off, but I needed to check on my brother. He's my responsibility."

Miss Whitley looked at Dean sadly. She knew how much the previous events had scared both boys and she knew how overprotective Dean had been even before that. The poor kid was always looking after his little brother and she found herself even more curious about their home life. She had seen John Winchester on several occasions as he was picking up his sons, but she had only met him once before yesterday. The man was interesting, to say the least.

She couldn't help but feel like he treated Dean too much like an adult and she wondered how much responsibility he put on the young boy's shoulders. She had been completely taken aback yesterday when he had stormed into the teacher's lounge, demanding that Dean immediately report to him. _Who talks like that to a child?_

She didn't miss the way Dean had immediately jumped up from the sofa, making sure not to jostle Sam too much in the process, and stopped in front of his dad, standing at attention like a soldier. Dean had looked so scared at the moment, like he was afraid that his dad was going to be mad at him. Or disappointed. That had, of course, piqued her curiosity immediately.

She hadn't been too surprised to find out the next morning that John Winchester expected both Sam and Dean to be watched closely throughout the day. And she really didn't even mind it, to be honest. She would never admit it, but Sam was one of her favorite students, worming his way into her heart from the very first moment he looked up at her with that floppy hair and warm hazel eyes.

Yes, she had to admit that Sam tugged at her heartstrings. But, Dean tugged at them even more. She had never known a child quite like Dean Winchester. For all his tough exterior and devil-may-care attitude, she knew that deep down he was desperate for someone to see who he really was, to really understand him. He made that awfully hard, of course, driving most everyone away from him with a simple look, but she had seen him with his defenses down on more than one occasion. It didn't escape her notice that those times she had witnessed that particular side of Dean was when he was with his little brother.

She knew that Dean was a smart kid, but she had heard talk in the teacher's lounge and in official meetings of how the boy simply didn't apply himself. On more than one occasion, his teacher, Mrs. Nichols, had expressed frustration at being unable to get through to her student. She talked of how Dean often neglected to turn in his homework and when he actually did turn in something it was usually of poor quality. She also talked of how the kid didn't seem to have any real friends and how he usually drove away any other child that showed interest in him. What concerned her the most, though, was how Dean frequently fell asleep in class and often times "forgot" his lunch at home.

Miss Whitley had a hard time reconciling this version of Dean with his little brother. Sam was always very attentive in class, always turned in his homework, was well liked by his fellow classmates, and always had a healthy lunch to eat. It really didn't make much sense.

She knew that for the most part, Dean tried to abide by the rules of the school. But, he also had a mischievous streak a mile high. Just the week before, someone had placed itching powder in the gym shorts of several of the more "popular" boys. The boys blamed Dean for the incident, but no one could prove that it was actually him. Of course, the teachers all knew of the feud between Dean and these particular boys, but up until that point it had only been a verbal war. Miss Whitley knew, too, that Dean's issues with them stemmed from the fact that they were bullies.

If anything could be said in favor of Dean Winchester it was that he stood up for the underdog. Dean hated to see anyone getting taken advantage of or being picked on. It didn't seem to bother him when people talked bad about him or treated him badly, but he wouldn't allow it to happen to anyone else. On more than one occasion, Dean had been sent to the office for fighting and even though he looked a little scared to know that his father would be called, he never seemed to regret his actions.

The last time Dean had gotten into a fight, Miss Whitley had walked into the office just as John Winchester had arrived. She had never seen Dean look so…. _ashamed_? She remembered being a little worried for the boy when he left with his father, walking a few steps behind the man with his head hanging down. It had seemed to her that all of what made Dean….. _well, Dean_ had simply disappeared in the wake of his father's obvious disappointment and anger. A mere shadow of the boy he was followed his father out of the school that day.

And now, here he was again, doing something that would obviously disappoint his father, if he found out. Miss Whitley didn't know what to do. If it were up to her, she would simply talk to the boy, explaining to him why it was so important that he follow the plan his father had set out for them. She wanted to make him understand that she wouldn't let anything happen to Sam, that she would protect the boy with her own life, if she had to. But, she was sure that by now the alarm had been raised. Mrs. Simmons had surely figured out by now that Dean had escaped out the window and a manhunt was surely under way.

Maybe, just maybe, she could talk Mrs. Simmons and Mr. Morrison into not alerting Dean's father.

"Dean, we need to get you back to your classroom, okay? Recess will be over in a few minutes and I'm sure Mrs. Simmons is really worried about you."

Dean looked like he was about to argue, but decided against it. "Yes, ma'am," he said quietly.

Miss Whitley opened up her classroom door and motioned to Sam and Dean. "Sam, let's get your brother back to class." Both boys followed her out the door.

* * *

Dean knew he would be in big trouble if his dad found out that he had snuck off. There was a small part of him that thought that maybe Miss Whitley, Mrs. Simmons, and Mr. Morrison would just let him off with a stern talking to, but he knew that the infamous Winchester luck would never allow him to get off that easily. But, he found that he didn't really care. His dad could yell at him, ground him, or even spank him and he wouldn't care. He _had_ to know that Sammy was okay! _He had to!_ Seeing that his little brother was safe had soothed the burning fear that had settled in his soul. Knowing that Sam was safe was the most important thing.

They were almost to his classroom when they could suddenly hear loud yelling. Sam moved in closer to Dean's side, grasping his left arm with both of his and holding on so tightly that it actually hurt. Dean's heart nearly stopped and his stomach flipped crazily when he recognized his dad's voice, thundering loudly and echoing in the hallway.

"What do you mean he's missing? Where the hell is my son?!"

* * *

Author's note: Well, here you go. Another chapter for you. I know it's a little shorter than my usual, but I wanted to post something before I started on the next chapter of Meet Me on the Battlefield.

Sounds like John's a little upset, doesn't it? What do you think that means for Sam and Dean?

Thanks so much for reading. I would truly love to hear your thoughts and ideas. Your reviews are greatly appreciated.


	4. Pay the Piper

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 4

* * *

To say that John was angry at Dean would be a complete and total understatement. The man was furious. Beyond furious. In fact, Dean hadn't seen his dad as mad since the Shtriga incident. And that was one event he really wanted to forget.

John was able to barely hold it together as he listened to Mrs. Simmons explain how Dean had escaped from her. He impatiently waited as Miss Whitley took over the story, explaining how Dean showed up in her classroom, wanting nothing more than to check on his little brother.

John glared at his oldest son as he shifted from foot to foot, his hands clenched tightly at his side. Dean didn't miss the way his dad's jaw clenched, either, or how his face was suddenly turning a deep red in color. By the time Miss Whitley was done explaining, Dean knew that he was in big trouble.

"Dean, get in there and get your stuff," John ordered, pointing into Dean's classroom. Dean scrambled past his father, half expecting to feel his dad's hand crashing down onto his backside. Luckily, the man was able to control himself.

Dean gathered his books and threw them into his backpack before putting his coat on. Rushing back out the door, he wasn't surprised when his dad gripped his upper arm harshly. He was surprised, however, when Miss Whitely tried to intercede on his behalf.

"Mr. Winchester, I know you're upset, but Dean was only trying to look out for his brother. And they're both fine, right? Everything's okay?"

"My son knew what was expected of him, Miss Whitley. He made the choice to disobey me, so no…. everything isn't okay. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have someplace to be."

John kept his grip on Dean's arm and grabbed Sam's hand before stalking off down the hall. He hadn't gone more than a few steps before Sam pulled his hand out of his grasp and stopped walking. "Daddy, wait! I need to get my stuff, too, remember? We have to go to my classroom."

"You can get it later, Sam."

"But I need it tonight, Daddy. I have homework. Right, Miss Whitley?"

Before she could answer, John continued. "I said you can get it later, Sam. We need to go."

Sam immediately started crying, causing Dean to come to his aid. "Dad, Sam needs his coat anyway."

"Shut up, Dean."

"But, it's cold outside. He'll get sick."

"I said shut up, Dean. Not another word. Let's go."

John grabbed Sam's hand again and started back down the hall. By the time they got to the Impala, Sam was crying even harder and Dean was suddenly really angry at his dad. He knew better than to say anything, though, so instead of climbing i to the front seat like he normally would, he climbed into the back with his little brother, pulling him close into his side as he tried to calm him.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said softly.

"No, it's not, Dean. Daddy's really mad and I don't like it when he's mad."

"He's not mad at you, Sam. It's okay. It's me he's mad at."

"I know," Sammy cried even louder. "I don't like it when he's mad at you, Dean."

Dean was just about to answer when John's gruff voice interrupted. "Stop crying, Sam."

Sam tried to stop, but he couldn't quite do it. Instead, his cries turned to painful sobs that wracked his small body.

"Dean! Make him stop," John ordered.

Dean jumped at the command. "I'm trying, Dad. But you're scaring him."

By this time, John had had enough. "Make him stop crying or I'm pulling this car over."

"Sammy, please," Dean begged. "Please stop crying."

"I'm trying," Sam sobbed.

"Dean…." John warned.

"Sammy, I'll tell you a story if you stop crying, okay? And you can play with my GI Joe tonight when you're taking your bath. Come on, Sammy. Please!"

Sam took several deep breaths, his tiny shoulders shuddering with his efforts to stop. Dean pulled his coat off and laid it over his brother.

"There you go, little bro," Dean said with a small smile. He looked up just in time to see his dad giving him an approving nod in the rearview mirror. He also looked up just in time to see his dad driving past the exit they usually took to the motel room. "Dad? Where are we going?"

He thought John was going to ignore him at first, but eventually the man answered. "We're going to Bobby's."

Dean wanted to ask why, but didn't want to push his luck. Instead, he turned back to Sam and started to tell him a story.

* * *

Bobby's house was a two hour drive from where they were currently staying. By the time they arrived, Sam was sound asleep, leaning up against his brother with his mouth hanging open. Dean had spent most of the time staring out the window, his eyes frequently darting over to look at his dad, whose hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was surprised that John had yet to start yelling at him for disobeying a direct order. Dean knew that his father always expected his boys to obey his orders completely and without question. And the man definitely didn't put up with any insubordination. Discipline was the major focal point of John Winchester's parenting style and his boys knew it.

Obedience. Respect. Responsibility. Compliance. Sacrifice. Submission. Self-control.

These were the things that were important to John Winchester. These were the things he taught his boys. Obedience always expected. Respect always demanded. Responsibility always taken for the choices one made. Compliance with his rules. Sacrifice for the greater good of the family. Submission to his authority. Self-control in all aspects. Being a Winchester was difficult. Being John Winchester's son was even more so. Nearly impossible, in Dean's mind.

He tried to be a good son. He really did. But, Dean felt like he always fell short of what his dad expected of him. It never, ever crossed his mind that John's expectations were actually unrealistic, especially for an eleven year old boy. He tried so hard to be the son his dad needed, but he just couldn't. He always seemed to mess things up because he was too impulsive. Or too irresponsible. Or too stupid. His dad never told him that he was any of these things….. well, other than too impulsive…..but Dean could tell by the look the man gave him sometimes. He could tell that the man was disappointed.

Of course, when Dean screwed up, John never hesitated to let him know just how disappointed he was. Dean was no stranger to discipline, that was for sure. Or punishment. John Winchester was a master of both. And Dean hated it.

Well, he really didn't mind the extra training his father added on to his already rigorous schedule, but he hated the rest….. extra chores, early bedtimes, restrictions, spankings, long lectures. He hated them all.

But, what he hated even more was waiting. He knew that his dad was furious with him for not following his edict to stay with an adult at all times. He knew he was going to be punished. But, he didn't know how or when that punishment was going to come and he hated it. He hated the waiting, more than anything.

Sometimes, it was good for John to cool off a bit before dealing with his mischievous children. Other times, it made things worse, because he would sit and stew over whatever misdeed had occurred, his anger growing with each passing second.

Dean had a sinking feeling that John's anger was only growing with each passing mile.

When the car finally came to a stop, John barked at Dean to wake his brother and get into the house. Sammy was never an easy one to wake up, so after a few unsuccessful tries, Dean gathered his little brother up in his arms and lugged him up the stairs to the house.

Bobby must have been expecting them because he didn't look surprised to see the Impala pull up in his driveway. He also didn't look surprised to see John Winchester striding empty-handed up the stairs while Dean struggled with the weight of the smallest Winchester.

"John…" Bobby said gruffly.

"Hey, Singer," John answered before turning back to his boys. "Dean, I told you to wake him up."

"He wouldn't wake up, Dad. You know how he gets when he's really tired. Hey, Uncle Bobby." Dean looked up at his surrogate uncle with a small smile on his face.

"Hey, kid. It's good to see you. Why don't you take Sam into the living room? There's a blanket on the back of the couch."

"Yes, sir."

Bobby held the door open for the boy, watching as Dean walked through to the living room and gently laid his brother down on the couch. He turned back to John just in time to see the deep scowl on the man's face.

"What's the matter, John? Did something else happen?"

"Nothing I can't handle, Singer. Dean! Front and center, boy!"

Bobby watched as a very nervous looking Dean stepped back out onto the porch, stopping right in front of his father. Suddenly, Bobby knew that John's ire was aimed at his oldest son and a deep-seated need to protect the boy reared its head.

"John, I can tell that Dean must have got into a little bit of trouble, but maybe you should take a few minutes to calm down," he tried.

"I've had over two hours and a hundred and twenty miles to calm down, Bobby. I don't need more time. Dean, let's take a walk."

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he sadly looked up at Bobby.

Without another word, John stepped off the porch with Dean following close behind him, shoulders sagging, but head held high. Bobby watched helplessly as they walked across the yard.

* * *

Bobby had known the small Winchester family for almost five years. He could remember clearly the day the bedraggled man had shown up at his house, dragging two small boys with him. Sam and Dean had only been two and six years old at the time and they had been a particularly sad sight at the time, both desperately in need of haircuts and clothes that fit them.

Bobby had been surprised to see how Dean had been so adept at taking care of his little brother at such a young age. The six year old never let his brother out of his sight, always making sure that the active two year old was watched over and safe. He sat next to Sam at the table, making sure the little boy ate his food and drank his milk. He helped his brother get cleaned up every night, before tucking him into the small bed in the extra room and "reading" him a story. Bobby had been surprised that the six year old could read so well, but then he realized that Dean was just making the story up as they looked at the pictures. He found out later that Dean hadn't been in school more than just a few months and that he was woefully behind academically.

But, the boy was smart. Hell, he was the smartest six year old Bobby had ever seen. Not that he'd been around many six year olds in his life, but he did have a few nieces and nephews that he occasionally spent time with. Dean was clever and intuitive. He was able to determine his brother's needs before anyone else could. Dean knew when something was wrong with Sam and did everything he could to take care of it himself.

Bobby didn't miss the way John practically ignored his sons. The man had come to him for training in the fight against the supernatural and he was like a man possessed. Bobby knew the story behind John Winchester's new obsession with hunting. He knew that John's wife died at the hands of something supernatural, so he understood the need to fight. His own wife had died under similar circumstances, although she had died by his own hand. He understood what was driving the man to hunt. What he didn't understand, though, was how the man could let this obsession push him so far away from his sons. Dean and Sam needed their father even more now that they were motherless, but the man couldn't see that. Or _wouldn't_ see that.

Bobby noticed how John relied on his oldest son to pick up the slack. He noticed how both boys were starved for attention from their father. Attention that the man couldn't seem to find the strength to give. He noticed how Dean was expected to take care of Sammy, and how the responsibilities weighed heavily on the boy's scrawny shoulders.

He also noticed how Sam depended on Dean. When he was tired, or hungry, or sick, it was Dean he wanted. Not John. When it was time for bed, he wanted Dean to tuck him in. When it was time for a bath, he wanted Dean to bathe him. Whenever Dean was out of his sight for longer than just a few minutes, he would cry out for his brother. Bobby couldn't help but think that this was all a little unhealthy, but he knew he couldn't change it. The boys needed each other, because they really didn't have much else.

Sam's dependency on his brother, though, was overshadowed by his brother's fierce protectiveness. Bobby came face to face with that protectiveness one day, and if he hadn't found it so endearing at the time, he probably would have been scared. Dean was definitely a force to be reckoned with, even as a six year old.

Dean and Sam had were sleeping in the small bed in the extra bedroom upstairs. Although there was another bed in the room, John had decided to sleep downstairs on the couch. Bobby tried to explain to Sam and Dean that they didn't need to share a bed, but Dean insisted that they would sleep in the same bed.

One rainy day, they had both fallen asleep mid-afternoon. Bobby realized that the two rowdy boys were being unusually quiet, so he had gone upstairs to check on them, expecting to find them getting into something they weren't supposed to. Instead, he found them both sound asleep on the bed, Sam curled into his brother's chest and Dean curled protectively around his brother.

Bobby noticed that they were both sweating profusely, Sam's long hair plastered to his face, while Dean's brow was covered in beads of sweat. He opened up the nearest window, allowing a cool breeze to flow through the room. Then, he stepped over to the bed, gently moving Sam away from his brother so the two could cool down. He hadn't moved Sam more than just a few inches when a sudden blur of movement surprised him. Before he could figure out what was going on, a sharp pain erupted in his nose. His eyes immediately began watering as he felt the warmth of what could only be his own blood dripping down his chin.

Looking around him to find what it was that had attacked him, Bobby had been surprised to see the small body of Dean Winchester, sitting up on his knees, arms outstretched and fists clenched tightly. He had somehow placed himself in front of Sam, who was still sound asleep, determined to protect his little brother the only way he knew how.

Bobby knew in that single second that Dean would one day be a fierce hunter. If the boy wanted to be a hunter, of course.

* * *

Of course, now Bobby knew that John was raising his boys to have no choice but to be hunters. Sam still didn't know exactly what his father did for a living, but Dean had never been afforded the peace of not knowing. Bobby could remember even in the earliest days how John had been honest with his oldest son, telling him about the monsters that were out there, and of how it would be his job one day to kill them.

John had started training Dean to shoot a gun when the boy was six years old. By the time he was eight, Dean had been a proficient shot with both pistols and rifles, and John had started training him in the art of hand to hand combat and knife fighting. Dean was a natural, which only spurred John to train his son even harder.

The man's expectations for his oldest son were unlike anything Bobby could have imagined. He often tried to remind his friend that Dean was just a kid. _"He's only seven years old, John"_ or _"Maybe you should wait until he's a little older to teach him that, Winchester."_ But, of course, John never listened. Bobby was sure he had never met a more stubborn man in his life. And it was Dean who suffered because of it.

Bobby was amazed, though, at how well the boy seemed to manage these expectations. All in all, he was a good kid. The boy did have a mischievous streak several miles wide, but he was a good kid. And John seemed to tolerate Dean's mischievousness with at least a little patience. He didn't get too upset with the general rowdiness of his boys or their frequent arguing and scuffling. _Boys will be boys_ , he would say. Or, _let them work it out themselves_. He didn't interfere with much of their unruliness. But when he told them to do something, he expected them to obey. When he forbid them from doing something, he expected compliance. John was a hard man and he expected complete and total obedience from his sons. When he didn't get that, he handled it harshly.

Bobby wondered exactly what it was that Dean had done this time. By the look on John's face as he led his son away, he knew it was something big. He could tell that Dean knew exactly how much trouble he was in and he couldn't help but be impressed with how the boy handled himself. Facing an irate John Winchester would be intimidating to even the most seasoned hunter, but Dean was facing it the only way he knew how. Head on and without complaint.

Even so, Bobby thought that maybe he should say a little prayer for the boy as he headed into the lion's den.

* * *

Author's note: Well, here you go. I may have taken a few liberties with the timeline of Bobby meeting the Winchesters, but there really isn't a lot of information in that regard to be found. I hope you all don't mind that. And after checking all the Supernatural timelines I can find, it looks like the Shtriga incident happened when Dean was around ten, so hopefully I wasn't wrong to fit it into my timeline the way I did.

And just in case there are some of you out there that don't like the way John is acting, I promise that I'm not going to make him into a horrible person. There will not be any abuse, just a frustrated father who doesn't always handle things the best way. Although, I think John is essentially a good person, he isn't always the best of fathers. I'm hoping to be able to do his character justice in this story, but man is that hard. He's definitely a flawed character, but aren't we all?!

Anyway, thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you all are still enjoying the story.


	5. No Regrets

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 5

* * *

John knew that he needed to calm down before dealing with his son. The panic he felt when he first discovered that Dean was missing from his classroom had worn off quickly, leaving him with an anger that suffused his entire being. The drive to Bobby's had mellowed him a little, but every time he looked at his boys sitting in the back seat of the Impala, leaning against each other as usual, safe for the moment, he felt another surge of anger shoot through him.

It was his job to keep his boys safe and he took that job seriously. _But, how could he keep them safe if they disobeyed him?! How could he keep them safe if he didn't even know where they were?!_ He knew he wasn't ever going to win any Father of the Year awards, not with the way he was always leaving the boys to fend for themselves or forgetting their birthdays and other holidays. He knew they deserved so much more than what he gave them, but he did the best he could.

Sam and Dean knew that he loved them. He wasn't one to say the words out loud, but he figured he got the message across in other ways. He always made sure that Sam had a few new books to read and he took Dean target shooting as often as he could. Both boys had clean clothes, even if they didn't always fit them well, and he made sure to take them to a dentist at least once a year. In John Winchester's mind, actions always spoke louder than words.

He knew he could be too much of a hard-nose with them, too, but he did what he had to do to keep them safe. His boys knew that when John told them to do something that it was expected of them to obey, without question. And they knew what to expect if they didn't obey.

John knew that Dean deciding to escape his teacher to check on Sammy wasn't exactly a spur of the moment decision. It might have been a spur of the moment decision to climb out the bathroom window, but that was only because the opportunity presented itself in such a way. No, John was sure that Dean had been looking for the right time and the right way to make his escape for most of the day. He also knew that Dean was perfectly aware what would happen if he escaped and if he was caught. Dean could be downright, frustratingly impulsive at times- something that John had been trying to curb in the boy- but he also was the type to carefully think out a situation, weighing the pros and cons of each action in infinite detail.

That he would risk his father's wrath in such a way spoke deeply of his desire to protect his little brother. And John couldn't fault him for that. He appreciated the bond between his sons, sometimes becoming even a little jealous of it. He was proud of Dean for the fierce protectiveness he always showed for his brother. But, orders were orders and Dean knew that.

Now, John was faced once more with the unpleasant task of showing his son the error of his ways, a task that he found no joy in. A small smile crept across the man's face, though, as he was suddenly reminded of the first time he ever had to punish his son. Aside from the occasional mild smack of a hand or the frequent "Dean! No!" that could be heard in the Winchester house, raising Dean had been easy. Mary and John were both well aware that the boy would someday be a handful, his curiosity and mischievousness eventually getting the best of him, but they had been surprised when that day came so early in his young life. In hindsight, they should have known that Dean's newfound penchant for sneaking out of his room during nap time would be an issue.

John had been at work one afternoon when he received a phone call from a crying Mary. His heart sank immediately when he heard her tell him that Dean was missing. Promising to get home as fast as he could, John jumped into the Impala and raced home, not even taking the time to tell his boss he was leaving.

The ride home had been horrible. In the twenty minutes it took him to drive across town, every worst-case scenario of a missing child ran through his mind, leaving him nearly breathless and nauseous when he pulled into his driveway. He imagined Dean being kidnapped and killed by some savage beast, like the young Adam Walsh just two years before. He imagined Dean somehow making it to the small lake a few blocks away, falling into the water and not being able to stay afloat. He imagined his boy falling into a deep sinkhole, being bitten by a rabid dog, or even abducted by aliens. Horrific, dreadful, awful thoughts passed through his mind, each one driving a deep despair further and further into his soul.

He had no idea what to expect when he finally made it home, but what he found completely and utterly shocked him. Instead of the crying, panicking woman he had just spoke to on the phone, he found an angry, downright terrifying Mary Winchester instead.

"Mary? What's going on? Did you call the police? Why aren't they here yet?" John's words tumbled out in a rush, his panic still growing with each passing second.

Mary suddenly realized the state that her husband was in and her face immediately softened. "He's okay, John. I found him."

"Where was he?" John asked. "Is he hurt?"

"He's fine, John."

"What the hell, Mary? What happened?"

Mary gave her husband a look that clearly told him to tread carefully. "He snuck out again, John. But, this time he didn't just hide in the kitchen. He snuck out of the house. I found him down the street at the park."

"He went all the way to the park by himself?"

"Yes. I put him down for his nap at one o'clock and went to feed Sam. When I went to check on Dean a little bit later, he was gone. I looked everywhere in the house for him, John, but I couldn't find him. That's when I called you."

"Wasn't the door locked? How did he get out?"

"He's figured out how to unlock the door. After I called you, I noticed that the front door was unlocked, so I grabbed Sammy and started looking for him outside. When I didn't find him in the yard, I started down the street, calling for him. Mrs. Perkins was walking towards me and she said she had just seen Dean at the park."

"She saw him there and just left him?" John asked incredulously.

"No, John. She saw him playing with some of the other kids from the neighborhood and just thought that he was there with them and their moms."

"Where is he now? Up in his room?"

"Yes," Mary answered. "I sent him up there to wait for you."

John sighed deeply as he looked at his wife. "What am I going to do, Mary?"

"I don't know, John, but he has to learn that he can't sneak out like that. I nearly died when I couldn't find him."

John pulled Mary into a hug, holding her tightly to his chest. After a few minutes of drawing as much strength as he could from her, he pulled away, running a greasy hand over his face. Mary laughed at the streak of grease that now crossed his face.

"Maybe you should get cleaned up before dealing with our little scamp," she said with a smile. "You go in there like that, you'll scare him."

John kissed Mary on the nose before heading upstairs to deal with Dean.

After cleaning the grease off of his hands and face and changing his shirt, he stepped across the hall to Dean's room. He opened the door to find Dean lying face down on his bed, his face buried in his pillow and his small shoulders shaking with his sobs.

"Hey, little man," John said as he stepped into the room. He had to step over several little green army men on his way to the bed and reminded himself to pick those up before he left. One time stepping on the damn things with bare feet was enough for him.

Dean didn't move at the sound of his dad's voice. Instead, he burrowed even deeper into the pillow.

"Hey, buddy…. I need you to sit up, okay?"

When Dean still didn't move, John sat down on the bed and gently grabbed him under the arms, pulling him up and onto his lap. He couldn't help but notice that the four year old had already outgrown his favorite pair of Batman shorts. _When did that happen?_

Before John could say anything, Dean buried his face into his chest, his arms going around his neck and his legs around his waist. John held on to the boy for a few minutes until he felt him relax slightly.

"Deano, we need to talk, okay?"

"I don't wanna talk, Daddy,' Dean answered quietly.

"I know you don't, buddy, but we have to. Now, why don't you sit up straight and tell me what happened today?"

John wasn't sure that Dean was going to do as he asked, but a few seconds later, the boy pulled away from his chest. Dean quietly started playing with the buttons on his dad's shirt, not wanting to look the man in the eye. Giving his son a bit of time to gather himself, John finally reached down and put a finger under Dean's chin, lifting his face upward.

"Why did you sneak out, Dean?" he asked. "You know you're not allowed to leave this house without Mommy or me."

"Mommy was being mean, Daddy," Dean cried. "I told her I wasn't sleepy, but she made me lay down. And she told me that we could go to the park today, but then she said no. She lied, Daddy, and lying is bad."

"You're right, Dean. Lying is bad, but I don't think Mommy lied. I think her plans just changed. And maybe she was going to take you after your nap."

"But I didn't want to take a nap, Daddy! I wanted to go to the park."

John realized that he wasn't getting anywhere with the upset four year old, so he tried another tact.

"Dean, do you remember what happened the last time you snuck out of your room and Mommy couldn't find you?" John remembered that day clearly. He had been out in the garage when he heard Mary yelling Dean's name. He had ran into the house to find his wife frantically looking in each room and every closet. He had just joined in the search when he heard Mary yelling from the kitchen that she had found him. Dean had snuck out of his room and was in the kitchen, looking for some cookies, when he heard his mom yelling for him. He knew he was in trouble, so he decided to hide from Mary by climbing into one of the kitchen cupboards. The search might have continued longer if Dean hadn't sneezed just as Mary was searching the kitchen. Mary had been extremely upset with her son and Dean had found himself in a prolonged time-out, something that was miserable for all involved.

"I remember," Dean said sadly. "Mommy was really mad at me."

"She was scared, kiddo. And you scared her even more today."

"She yelled at me, Daddy," Dean said with all the indignation he could muster. "And she spanked me!"

This was news to John. Mary hadn't said anything about spanking Dean, so he was surprised. "She did?"

Dean nodded his head indignantly. "She swatted my bottom, Daddy, and it hurted."

"Well, buddy, you broke the rules. Are you supposed to leave your bed when you're taking a nap?"

"No," Dean muttered.

"And are you supposed to go outside by yourself? Or leave the yard?"

"No," Dean muttered even more quietly.

"No, you're not. When Mommy puts you down for a nap, you're supposed to stay in bed, Dean. And you're never, ever allowed to leave this house without us. Never. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Dean answered miserably.

"Okay, buddy." John thought long and hard about how he was going to punish his son. His first thought was that Dean had earned himself a spanking, but if Mary had already taken care of that, he had to come up with something else. He was still surprised that Mary didn't tell him about the spanking, so he decided to take the time to ask her about it before making his decision.

"I'll be right back, Dean," he said as he lifted his son and sat him down on the bed. "I need to talk to Mommy."

Several minutes later, he returned to Dean's room, his mind made up. Mary had indeed swatted the boy, but it had only been one smack. Although he knew that one smack had probably hurt, John thought that a few more smacks were warranted.

When he walked back in the room, Dean looked up at him with his big green eyes, almost making John change his mind. But John was determined that his son would grow up to be responsible and obedient. Both Mary and John had grown up with parents who believed that a few well-placed swats on an errant child's backside were appropriate and they agreed with them. Not that it made it any easier, of course. Causing your child any amount of discomfort, even for a valid reason, wasn't easy. Especially when that child was looking at you the way Dean was looking at him. Big green eyes, pouty pink lips, hair plopping down on his forehead. John suddenly realized that spanking this child would be nearly impossible.

After the deed was done, John held a crying Dean against his chest for several long minutes. Just when he thought the boy had fallen asleep, Dean pulled away from him and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he said tearfully. "I'm sorry I was naughty."

"You're forgiven, little man. But maybe you should tell Mommy you're sorry, too, yeah?"

"Okay. Daddy? Do you think she still loves me?"

John's heart nearly broke at Dean's words. "Of course, she does, Dean. There isn't anything that you could do that would make me or Mommy stop loving you, kiddo."

Dean looked up at his dad thoughtfully. "Really? What if I forgot to pick up my toys?'

"Nope," John answered with a smile.

"What if I don't eat my vegables?"

"Nope, "John said as he inwardly laughed at Dean's mispronunciation.

John watched as Dean seemed to be thinking really hard to come up with something bad enough to make them stop loving him.

"What if I dropped Sammy on his head?"

"Nope, not even that, kiddo. Besides, I know you'll never drop Sammy on his head. You're his big brother and you take too good of care of him to ever do something like that."

Dean couldn't seem to come up with anything else, so he climbed down off of John's lap. "I'm gonna go 'pologize to Mommy, Daddy."

John followed Dean out of his room and down to the kitchen where Mary was starting dinner. He stood in the doorway and watched as Dean ran over to his mother and threw his arms around her legs.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Thank you, Dean," she said as she bent down and lifted him up into her arms. "And please don't ever do that again, okay?"

"I won't, Mommy," Dean said vehemently. "I don't want Daddy to ever spank me again! It really hurted."

John was surprised to see the angry look Mary sent his way. He knew he'd have to explain to her later that the four swats he had placed on Dean's backside had not been that hard.

* * *

Now, he was faced with having to punish Dean again for doing something that had put himself in danger. It wasn't often that he found the need to spank the boy so soon after a previous spanking, but he knew that Dean's recent behavior called for it. And he knew the boy was expecting it.

Dean followed him through the scrap yard, knowing that his dad was leading him to one of the several storage sheds that Bobby had on his property. This wouldn't be the first time the man had taken him there for a well-deserved punishment, so Dean knew what to expect.

Once they were there, John finally turned to his son. Dean had been expecting John to start yelling, but instead the man talked in a rather quiet voice.

"You know why we're here," John said calmly.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, looking down at his feet.

"Eyes up, Dean," John said sternly.

Dean's eyes immediately shot up to meet his father's.

"What do you have to say for yourself, son?"

Dean took a few seconds to compose himself, knowing that what he said could have an impact on how John carried out his punishment. "I'm sorry, Dad," he finally said. "I know I was supposed to stay with Mrs. Simmons, but I needed to check on Sammy. I asked her if I could, but she said that Sammy would be fine with Miss Whitley. I had to check."

"Dean, I gave you explicit orders this morning to stay with an adult at all times. Did you think I didn't mean what I said? That following that order was optional?"

"No, sir."

"So, you willingly disobeyed my orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, why do you think I gave that order this morning?"

"I know why, Dad," Dean groaned.

"Do you? Do you really understand the necessity of that order? And why I expected you to obey it?"

"It was to keep us safe," Dean answered. "I know, Dad."

"But you still decided to disobey me."

"I wouldn't have had to if you would have just let us stay home!" Dean yelled. "I could have watched over Sammy there, Dad. He would have been safe."

"Watch your tone, boy," John growled. "You're already treading on thin ice with me."

"Sorry, sir."

John ran a hand over his face and through his hair. "Dean, I wasn't about to leave you home alone when I know there's something out there looking for you. I needed you to be safe while I worked out a few things."

"That's stupid," Dean exploded again. "Like some old woman and a skinny girl could have helped us if that thing came back! I can protect Sam better than that, Dad!"

John stepped forward and grabbed Dean by the arm, turning him to the side just in time to land a hard smack to his backside.

"OW!" Dean cried.

"I told you to watch your tone, Dean. I mean it."

Dean didn't say another word as he brought his hands back to rub the sting out of his bottom. He definitely didn't want to make his dad any angrier.

"Okay, you know how this goes, kid. I give you an order, you obey it. If you don't…. well, you know what happens when you disobey me. So let's get this over with, okay? I'm tired and hungry and I bet you are, too."

John opened the door to the small shed and held it open as Dean passed him. He couldn't help but smile at the way Dean tried to keep his head held high as he walked into the shed. He felt a rush of pride at Dean's behavior. No matter how much Dean hated to be punished in such a way, the boy always took responsibility and faced it head on.

John closed the door behind him and turned to face his son.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean said quietly.

"Are you sorry for disobeying? Or just for getting caught?" John asked.

"Both? But, I'm not sorry for checking on Sammy. I had to, Dad."

"I know," John answered. "Now, come here, so we can get this over with."

* * *

Author's note: Well, I sure do hope this chapter made you like my interpretation of John a little more. I told you that I didn't think he was a bad man, just a struggling father, and I hope this chapter speaks to that.

I know there wasn't any Sam in this chapter, but I promise you'll hear from him soon. And more Bobby, too. Oh, and I hope the flashback wasn't too confusing.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	6. Fathers and Sons

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 6

* * *

Sam woke up confused, alone, and calling out for his brother. When Dean didn't immediately answer, he started looking around desperately, panic quickly filling him up. _Where was he? Where was Dean? Did the bad man take him?_

Sam climbed down from the couch he was laying on and after a few seconds of looking around, he finally recognized that he was in Bobby's house. After determining that no one was in the living room or kitchen, he made his way to the front door. Bobby was sitting in a chair on the porch, a beer in one hand and a faraway look on his face.

"Uncle Bobby? Where's Daddy and Dean? When did we get here?"

"Hey, kiddo…" Bobby reached out a hand and pulled Sam to him for a hug. "You've grown a little, I think."

"Daddy says I'm gonna be taller than Dean someday," Sam said with a smile. 'But Dean gets mad when he says that."

"Well, between you and me, I think your daddy is right. But, maybe we shouldn't say that in front of Dean, huh?"

"Where is Dean?" Sam asked as he looked around the salvage yard. He saw the Impala parked in front of the house, so he knew his dad and brother were somewhere around.

Bobby cleared his throat loudly. "They're uh…. They're having a talk."

Sam's face immediately fell at his words. "Daddy's mad at Dean."

Bobby knew he shouldn't ask, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What happened, Sam? Why is your dad mad at Dean?"

"Dean dis…um, disobeyed an order. And Daddy got really mad."

Bobby tried to hold in his frustration, but getting information out of a tired seven year old in a timely fashion could be nearly impossible. "What order did your brother disobey, kid?"

"Dean was s'posed to stay with his teacher today, but he didn't. He climbed out a window and ran all the way to my room and he scared me. I thought the bad man was coming to take me away again, Uncle Bobby. I was really scared."

"I bet you were, kid. But, your daddy and I are working on this, okay? We're going to make sure that man doesn't mess with you or your brother ever again."

By this time, Sam had crawled up into Bobby's lap, snuggling back into his chest. "I think Dean's getting a spanking, Uncle Bobby," he said sadly.

"I think you're probably right, Sam, but he'll be okay."

Sam leaned his head back, too, and Bobby could feel him completely relax against him. Unfortunately, that relaxation only lasted for a few minutes, because as soon as Sam saw his brother and father walking up, he jumped down out of Bobby's lap.

"Dean!" he cried as he leapt forward.

Bobby could tell that Dean had been crying and that he was walking rather stiffly, but the boy didn't hesitate to gather his little brother up in his arms when Sam ran to him.

"Hey, Sammy."

Dean didn't miss the glare that Sam was throwing at John. "Are you okay, Dean? Did Daddy spank you?"

"I'm fine, Sammy."

Sam didn't look like he believed his brother at all. In fact, his glare grew stronger, which John didn't miss.

"How about we go inside and work on dinner," Bobby suggested.

Without a word, Sam grabbed his brother by the hand and led him toward the house. As they passed Bobby, the man reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder before reaching up and ruffling his hair. Dean gave his surrogate uncle a small smile before allowing his brother to pull him up the stairs.

* * *

John and Bobby stayed out on the porch for a few minutes after the boys went into the house. Bobby was surprised to see John looking so worn down. Usually the man was able to hide his emotions a little better, but at the moment Bobby could see sadness and desperation in his friend's demeanor.

"You weren't too hard on him, were you, Johnny?"

"Not any harder than usual," John answered gruffly. "The boy deserved what he got, Bobby. He put himself in unnecessary danger and he disobeyed me."

"I'm not arguing with you about that, John. If a little pain in the backside serves to make him think a bit longer about his choices the next time, then it was worth it."

John rubbed a still stinging palm over his face and through his hair. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing with them. I'm trying to keep them safe, you know? I thought that if Dean knew what was really out there, that I could keep him safer. But, all that did was make him feel more responsible for keeping Sammy safe, even if that means he puts his own well-being at risk. What am I doing, Bobby?"

"You're doing the best you can, John," Bobby tried to reassure him. "But, I do think you put a little too much on that boy's shoulders sometimes. He's only eleven."

"I know that. I just don't know how to balance it all. And I don't know how to get it through Dean's stubborn skull that he has to obey orders."

"He's not a robot, John. And as far as he's concerned, no one at that school can protect Sam better than him. He fought off a shape shifter all by himself."

"I'm pulling them out of school," John said suddenly.

"John… do you really want to do that? Those boys need an education. And they need a little bit of stability in their lives."

"I can educate them myself," John said angrily. "They don't need all that crap they're teaching 'em nowadays. Hunters don't need all that extra stuff."

"What if they don't want to be hunters when they grow up?" Bobby asked.

"Of course they'll want to be hunters. Dean's already asking me when he can come on a hunt with me. And Sammy will too, once he learns the truth."

"They need to have choices in the matter, John. They deserve the right to make their own choice when the time is right."

"They're my boys, Singer. They'll choose hunting."

Bobby looked like he was going to say something else, but with a quick shake of his head, he turned and walked into the house. John followed after several minutes.

* * *

Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch, looking through a magazine that was on one of the end tables when Bobby entered the house. He felt a surge of guilt shoot through him when he realized that it was a gun magazine and he made a mental note to pick up some age appropriate magazines and books to have at the house for the Winchester boys when they came to visit.

"You boys hungry?"

"I am! I am!" Sam yelled.

Bobby laughed at his enthusiasm and at the way Dean covered his ears at the noise. "Well, what do you want to eat?"

"Burgers!" Sam yelled even louder.

"Really? Not lasagna? Or spaghetti?" Bobby asked, naming off a few of Sam's favorites.

"Nope! Burgers! They're Dean's favorite," Sam said with a smile as he looked at his brother.

"It's okay, Sammy. We don't have to have burgers. I like lasagna and spaghetti, too," Dean said in a tired voice.

"Yeah, but not as much as burgers," Sam said matter-of-factly.

"Burgers it is, then," Bobby said as he made his way through to the kitchen. "Why don't you boys go wash up? I'll call you when they're ready."

Dean stood up with a small grimace. He grabbed Sam by the back of the shirt and pulled him to the stairs, but just as they were about to head upstairs, John walked back into the house. He couldn't help but feel a little hurt by the look that both of his sons were giving him. Sam was still glowering at him and Dean just watched him warily, trying to figure out what his dad's mood was. When John didn't say anything, Dean turned back to his brother. "Come on, Sam."

John just watched as they walked up the stairs.

* * *

For the most part, there was a routine that happened after one of the boys had been spanked. Sam was usually quick to forgive his father after his own spanking, but was more unforgiving if it was Dean that had been in trouble. Either way, it usually wasn't too long before he settled down and things went back to normal.

Dean, on the other hand, usually took way longer to come to terms with being spanked. John thought that most of it was because the boy was embarrassed to cry in front of him, even though he tried to reassure Dean that it was okay…. that he wasn't expected to not cry. Dean's pride often got in the way of his accepting any kind of comfort from his father after being punished. John also knew he could expect to be called "sir" for a while, too.

He also knew that Dean would probably sulk for the rest of the evening, nursing his battered pride, but that by morning he would be okay. He wasn't too worried about a sulking eleven year old, but he also didn't want to find themselves in a situation where Dean's sulkiness combined with his own impatience ended in another altercation. Because of that, he sent Sam and Dean up to bed as soon as dinner was over. Dean almost argued with his dad, but thought better of it when he saw the look on the man's face.

"Go on," John ordered. "I'll be up to check on you in fifteen minutes and I expect you to be in bed, teeth brushed and lights out."

John and Bobby watched them head upstairs. Once he was sure they were out of earshot, John turned back to his friend. "So, did you find out anything?"

"Not much," Bobby admitted. "Caleb talked to Martin earlier today. Martin said he and Bill Harvelle followed the shape shifter to Kentucky last week, but they lost him. They looked for three days, but they couldn't find any trace of him anywhere, so they moved on. Are you sure it's the same one?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense, Bobby. When I killed that family of shifters in Virginia, I didn't know that I missed one. When he showed up as I was cleaning everything up, we fought, but he got away. The last thing he said to me was that he was going to find me and take away everything that I loved. It has to be him."

"Okay. Then I guess we better find him before he finds us. Any ideas on where to start?"

"We can make a few phone calls tomorrow, get a few other people on the job. Someone will eventually come across him. It's not like he's laying low, right? The man had the balls to walk into an elementary school in broad daylight and try to take my son."

"Maybe we should just hunker down here and shelter in place," Bobby suggested. "Maybe he'll come to us."

"No way! I'd rather be on the offensive. I'm not going to let him surprise me again."

"Well, there's nothing we can do right now so let's just get some rest tonight, okay? It's been a long day."

After finishing their coffee, the two men made their way upstairs, Bobby to his room and John to check on his sons. Opening the door to the small room the boys shared when they were there, he wasn't surprised to see two child-sized lumps in one of the beds. Despite the fact that there were two beds in the room, Sam and Dean usually slept in the same one.

He was pleased to see that the boys had done what they were told. Both of them were nestled under the blankets and both boys were pretending to be asleep.

"I know you're not asleep," John said quietly. "Sam, I can see your legs jiggling under the covers."

When he didn't get an answer, John stepped over to the bed and tapped Dean's leg. "Scoot over," he said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Dean scooted closer to Sam, making more room for John, who was hanging off the edge.

"I want you boys to go to sleep. No whispering under the covers until all hours of the morning, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, followed by Sam's "Okay, Daddy."

"Good."

"Dad?" Dean's voice was quiet in the dark of the room. "What are we doing here?"

"Bobby's going to help me with something."

"Are you going to leave us here?"

"I'm not going anywhere right now, Dean. I'm staying here with the two of you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. Go to sleep, both of you."

"Goodnight, Daddy," Sam said sleepily from the other side of the bed.

"Goodnight, Sammy." John leaned over and placed a kiss on the top of Sam's head. "Good night, Dean," he said as he did the same to his oldest.

"Goodnight, sir."

John's heart fell a little at the formality in Dean's voice, but he just turned and left the room. He wasn't much of a praying man, but as he walked downstairs to the couch he usually slept on, he prayed that Dean wouldn't still be upset with him come morning.

* * *

Author's note: This chapter is a little shorter than most and definitely not one of my best, but I'm super tired and really wanted to post a chapter tonight. Let me know what you think of the chapter, if you're so inclined. It would be greatly appreciated.

And as always, thanks so much for reading. Take care.


	7. Through His Eyes

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 7

Through His Eyes

* * *

John was relieved when everything seemed back to normal the next morning. He woke up at seven o'clock to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon and making his way into the kitchen, he was somewhat surprised to see Sam standing on a step stool trying to stir a batch of pancake mix while Bobby was at the stove cooking bacon and eggs. John laughed at the frilly apron the man was wearing.

"What are you wearing, Bobby? Or should I call you Roberta?"

"Watch it, Winchester. I'm not above kicking you out of my house before you've had your morning cup of coffee."

John raised both of his hands up in surrender. "Fair enough. Hey, Sammy! Where's your brother?"

Sam turned around to face his dad who couldn't help laugh at the serious look on his youngest son's face. "He's sleeping, Daddy. I tried to wake him up, but he threw his pillow at me."

"You know how your brother gets in the morning, kid," Bobby said gruffly. "He's not much of a morning person."

"He didn't have to throw his pillow at me," Sam pouted. "It hit me in the face!"

"Well, your brother always did have good aim. Even when he's half asleep," John laughed.

"Maybe you should go rouse him, John. Breakfast is almost ready." Bobby placed a big platter of bacon on the small kitchen table, smacking Sam's hand with his spatula when he tried to steal a piece. "Hold up there, kid. You'll eat when everyone's at the table."

"Come on, Uncle Bobby….just one piece. Please?"

Bobby looked around to make sure that John was gone before giving in to the smallest Winchester. "Okay, squirt. One piece."

Sam quickly grabbed the crispiest piece of bacon he could find and stuffed it in his mouth. With his mouth still full, he grinned at Bobby, his cheeks puffed out with bacon. "Did you know that bacon is Dean's favorite breakfast, Uncle Bobby? He even likes it better than Lucky Charms. And he can eat a whole plate of bacon by himself."

"That's because he's a growing boy."

"Do you think I'll ever be able to eat a whole plate by myself? Like Dean?"

"I'm sure you will someday, kid. You won't always be small, remember? Now let's finish those pancakes before your hungry brother gets here. You know how he is when he's hungry."

* * *

John stepped into the bedroom his sons were sharing as quietly as he could. He wasn't surprised to find Dean still sleeping or to find him sprawled out on the bed, one arm thrown over his head and one leg hanging off the bed. He suddenly wished that he had a camera to capture the moment because it was such a rare one.

Dean was usually a very alert sleeper, waking up at the slightest sound. John knew that it was because he was always on high alert for his baby brother, in case Sammy needed something or in case he was in danger. The only reason the boy was sleeping so soundly at the moment was because he knew that Sam was downstairs with Bobby. For whatever reason, whenever they were at Bobby's house, Dean let his guard down a little. At Bobby's house, Dean acted more like the eleven year old he was. And John didn't know how he felt about that.

Part of him was glad that Dean had that opportunity, but another part of him- the hunter part- didn't want the boy to let down his guard. The only way Dean and Sam could stay safe was if they all did their part in staying safe. If that meant that Dean always needed to be on high alert, that he couldn't ever sleep in so soundly, or play outside so childishly, then so be it. They didn't have the luxury of allowing Dean to act like an eleven year old. John needed all hands on deck to keep his youngest safe from the evil that had already tainted their family.

Of course, Bobby Singer disagreed whole-heartedly with that. John and Bobby had been friends for several years by now. There wasn't anyone that John trusted more than Bobby. There wasn't a single hunter he'd rather have by his side when things went wrong. Or even when things went right. Bobby Singer was more than just a friend to the Winchesters. He was family.

But, there had been many, many arguments between the two men, mostly on the topic of how John was raising his boys. Truth be told, the majority of the arguments were about Dean. Bobby loved the Winchester boys equally, but he definitely had more of a soft spot for Dean. John knew it was because the man felt guilty for being a part of the travesty that was Dean's childhood. Bobby understood the necessity of Dean knowing how to defend himself. He knew that it was necessary for Dean to understand that evil existed in the world. He helped train the boy on weaponry and tactical warfare. He talked strategy with the boy at the dinner table. He _knew_ it had to be done.

But he also knew that Dean deserved more than that. That he deserved to be a kid sometimes. That his life couldn't always be about training and following orders. Bobby had been adamant about Dean starting school when they first met. The boy was already behind a year by that time, but whenever Bobby had the opportunity, he worked with Dean to get caught up.

And John appreciated that. He knew that Bobby only had their best interests at heart. But, sometimes the man just needed to butt out. John knew he wouldn't ever win any father of the year awards, but he didn't need someone constantly needling him about his parenting style.

He remembered a time the year before where he and Bobby had such a huge falling out that he wasn't sure he'd ever see the man again. _Oh, what a fight that had been!_

They had shown up on Bobby's doorstep in the middle of the night after the Shtriga incident, Sam sound asleep, Dean more subdued than normal, and John Winchester angrier than he had been in a long while.

"John? What are you doing here? It's three in the morning." Bobby quickly took Sam from John's arms, tucking him into his chest gently so as not to wake him. "Is everything okay?"

"No, everything isn't okay," John said darkly. "I'm sorry I didn't call first, Bobby. My phone didn't make it out of the hunt alive."

"The Shtriga? Did you get it?" Bobby didn't miss the way Dean seemed to shrink into himself at those words.

"No, it got away. But it almost got Sammy, Bobby," John said, this time with a heaviness in his voice. "If I had been just a minute later…."

"What do you mean it almost got Sammy? You took the boys with you on the hunt?" Bobby couldn't believe that the man would do something so stupid. He knew John didn't always make the best parenting choices, but taking a six year old and a ten year old on a hunt was crazy.

"Of course not, Bobby! I'm not stupid. The Shtriga found the boys in the motel room. I tracked it back there and walked in to find it hovering over Sammy. Dean…"

Bobby looked at Dean and was surprised to see tears streaming down his face. "Dean what?" he asked.

Before John could answer, Dean spoke. "I froze, Uncle Bobby," he cried. "I had the shotgun and I knew what to do, but I froze. I'm sorry!"

"Hey, kid….it's okay. Sammy's fine," Bobby tried to reassure the boy.

"It's not okay, Bobby," John said angrily. "Sam could have died. Dean didn't do what he was supposed to do to protect him."

Bobby glared at John before shooting his eyes back over to Dean. "John, this isn't the time for that. The boys need to be in bed. They're exhausted."

"We're not going to gloss over this, Singer. Dean screwed up tonight and it almost cost Sammy his life."

"That's enough, Winchester," Bobby yelled, causing Dean to jump and Sammy to wake up with a cry. "I'm putting the boys to bed, then you and I are going to have a discussion."

Without another word, he grabbed Dean by the hand and led him up the stairs. After getting Sam and Dean settled, which didn't take long because they were both truly exhausted, he went back downstairs. John had pulled himself a beer out of the refrigerator and was sitting stiffly at the small table in the kitchen.

"What the hell is your problem, Winchester?!" Bobby growled.

"My problem, Singer, is that I nearly lost one of my son's tonight. That's my problem."

Bobby threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "Do you have any idea how scared Dean is right now? Or how guilty he feels? He's ten years old, John."

"He's been trained, Bobby. He knows how to fire that shotgun. He knows to shoot first and ask questions later. I've drilled that into his head over and over again. He screwed up tonight."

"Damn it, John! I can't believe you! Are you seriously telling me that you can't understand why your _ten year old son_ might've frozen at the sight of a Shtriga attacking his little brother?! He's just a little boy!"

"He's not just a little boy, Singer. He's a soldier. And he failed to follow my orders."

Bobby knew he wasn't getting anywhere with the man in front of him, so he switched gears. "How did the Shtriga find the boys anyway? Weren't you hunting it two towns over?"

"Yes, but I ended up tracking it back to Fort Douglas. I don't know how it knew where my boys were, but it did. And Dean….. I told him to stay in the motel room. To lock the door and to salt the door and windows. But, apparently he decided to go down to the motel lobby to play the arcade games while Sam was sleeping. Somehow the Shtriga made its way into the room and started feeding on Sammy." John paused and ran both hands over his face. "Damn it! I told him to stay in the room!"

Bobby finally took a seat at the table across from his friend. "John… Dean made a mistake. He's just a kid, remember? Kids screw up. That's what they do."

"Well, this screw up was too much. He has to learn to obey my orders, Bobby!"

"I understand that, but John….you can't lay all that blame on him. You know how he gets. He'll blame himself even more than he already does and that's a lot to put on those small shoulders."

"I can't let him get away with disobeying my orders, Bobby. He has to learn."

"So teach him! But, you need to tread carefully here. Meaning you need to keep your temper in check when you talk to him."

"I'm gonna do more than just talk to him, Bobby. The boy's in for a trip to the woodshed."

"John, you need to think about that."

"What's there to think about? My boys know what happens if they disobey me. Dean knew exactly what would happen if I found out that he left the motel room. And that he left Sam alone! And since when are you against me spanking my boys. If I remember right, you've done it a few times yourself over the years."

"This is different," Bobby tried to explain.

"How is this any different?"

"Come on, John. Can't you see how this has affected Dean? I think the boy might still be in shock. And I know for a fact that you're still really angry. You can't deal with him when you're this angry."

John stood up and headed for the door. "I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do, Singer,' he growled. "I'll deal with my boys how I see fit."

"I won't let you deal with him in anger, John. So either you let this go for now or you and I are going to have a problem."

John turned back to Bobby immediately. "Stay the hell out of my business, Singer."

"When it comes to those boys, your business is my business, Winchester. You're the one that asked me to look out for them, remember? You don't get to pick and choose when it's okay for me to do that."

John suddenly stepped forward and shoved Bobby backwards into the kitchen counter. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Before Bobby could answer, both men heard a sound that immediately had them backing off from each other. Turning to look, they were surprised to see Dean standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Stop!" he pleaded. "Dad, please!"

John immediately loosened his grasp on Bobby's shirt, his arms dropping to his side. "Dean, go back to bed!" he commanded. When Dean didn't move, he yelled even louder. "Dean Winchester! Do as you're told."

Dean took a single step backwards, but then he stopped. John took a step toward his son, but quickly stopped himself. "Dean…"

"Sammy had a nightmare, Dad. He, um…. He wet the bed."

Bobby stepped forward and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'll get some clean sheets, kid."

"It's okay, Uncle Bobby. I already changed the sheets. And I helped Sammy get cleaned up, too." Turning back to John, Dean couldn't quite bring his eyes up to meet his father's. "He wants you, Dad. He's asking for you."

Without a word, John stepped around his son and friend and made his way upstairs.

* * *

John could remember that night like it had just happened. He and Bobby had argued the next day, as well, and John remembered that he had been tempted to load the boys up in the Impala and hit the road. Bobby had been tempted to fill John's backside with buckshot, but luckily both men were able to stave off their temptations.

John had allowed himself several days to calm down before dealing with Dean's disobedience. He made sure to take the time to explain to his son what he was being punished for before walking him out to one of the sheds on Bobby's property for what he thought was a well-deserved spanking.

Things had been a little awkward between father and son for quite a while after that whole incident. John remembered walking in on a conversation between Bobby and Dean just a few days afterwards that just about broke his heart. Although he had tried to convince Dean that he was forgiven for his mistake, he knew that Dean didn't believe him. He hovered unnoticed just down the hall from the kitchen while they were talking one evening and he heard Dean tell Bobby that he thought his father was looking at him differently after the incident.

John wondered if he actually was.

* * *

Knowing that breakfast was probably getting cold as he stood there and watched his son sleep, John finally woke Dean up. Leaning over the bed, he gently ruffled the boy's hair as he called out softly to him. "Hey, champ….. Time to wake up!"

Dean grumbled something and rolled over onto his side, curling up into a ball. John tried calling to him again, but the boy didn't stir until John's hand landed squarely on his bottom.

"Ow," Dean yelled as he sat up in bed and stared at his dad. "What was that for?!"

"That was just to get you going, son. Nothing else was working."

"All you had to do was tell me to get up," Dean pouted.

"I tried. You just rolled over onto your side. Now, let's get going. Bobby has breakfast ready for us and if my coffee gets cold, I'm not gonna be a happy camper. Plus, if we don't hurry, your brother might eat all the bacon."

"There's bacon?" Dean asked as he jumped out of the bed. "Why didn't you say so?!"

John was just about to answer, but Dean was already out the door and running down the stairs. "Let's go, old man. Your coffee's getting cold."

 _Yep, everything was back to normal._

* * *

Author's note: Well, this chapter ended up completely different than I planned it to. These characters definitely have a mind of their own and I think they're taking over this story.

I hope the flashbacks aren't too confusing to read. I haven't found a good way to write them, but I'm okay with the current way as long as it's not messing you all up. Let me know what you think?

Thanks so much for reading. Reviews would be appreciated and adored. Take care.


	8. Life Interrupted

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 8

Life Interrupted

* * *

By the end of the weekend, Sam and Dean had settled into Bobby's routine- breakfast at 7:30, lunch at noon, dinner at 6:00, with a whole lot of chores and silliness in between. Dean enjoyed working with Bobby on whatever car he was working on at the moment and Sam usually settled in somewhere close by with either a book or the handful of action figures Bobby kept there for him.

John was off doing more research on the monster that had tried to take Sam, so the boys were acting a little more like typical boys. Bobby loved teaching Dean what he could about cars. The boy had a mind that soaked up everything Bobby told him and was able to put everything he learned into practice without too much difficulty. The smile on Dean's face when he was working on a car lit up the whole salvage yard, in Bobby's opinion.

Sam was sitting off to the side of the area they were working on, his nose buried in a book that Bobby was sure he had already read at least half a dozen times. "Doesn't your brother ever get tired of reading that book?" Bobby asked Dean.

"It's his favorite, Uncle Bobby. You shoulda seen him when he left it at one of the motels we were staying in one time. He wouldn't stop crying until Dad turned around and went back to the motel to get it."

Bobby was surprised that John had actually turned around to get it. It would have been more his style to tell his youngest son to shut up and just get over it, but Bobby knew how Sam's little pout could break through even the hardest of hearts _. It really should be categorized as a lethal weapon._

"What about you, Dean? What's your favorite book?" Bobby asked with a grin.

"My favorite book is any book I don't have to read, Uncle Bobby," Dean laughed. "I hate reading!"

"I think that's maybe because you just haven't read the right book yet, kid."

"Reading is for geeks and nerds, Uncle Bobby. And I'm not definitely not a geek or a nerd. I'm too cool for the written word." Dean grinned widely, proud of himself for his little rhyme.

"Well, you're definitely too big for your britches, kid."

Dean and Bobby continued to work until it was almost lunchtime. Bobby sent the boys into the house to get cleaned up and then sent them out to sit on the front porch until lunch was ready. Sam, of course, continued to read his book, while Dean laid back and just stared at the sky. They had been out there for almost fifteen minutes when a car pulled up into the driveway.

Dean immediately sat up and placed himself in front of Sam, watching closely as a man stepped out of the car and made his way towards the house.

"Hey, there….I'm looking for Bobby Singer," the man said as he stopped right in front of the porch steps.

"Sam, go get Uncle Bobby," Dean said.

"I don't wanna," Sam immediately answered, his nose not leaving the book he was reading. He had chanced a glance at the man as he drove up and obviously deemed him harmless.

"Sammy," Dean said even louder. "Go get Uncle Bobby."

Sam closed his book, glaring at his brother, but got up and went into the house. Seconds later, Bobby came out with Sam trailing closely behind. Bobby immediately took in his surroundings, cataloguing Dean's position in relation to the stranger standing before him. "Dean, take your brother and head on in to the kitchen. Your lunch is ready."

"But…." Dean started, but was instantly interrupted by Bobby.

"Now, Dean."

Without another word, Dean grabbed Sam's arm and led him back into the house. Once they were inside, Dean ran over to the living room window and watched the two men on the porch. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could tell by the way Bobby was standing that the man was on full alert.

After the two men talked for almost five minutes, Bobby suddenly stepped back into the house, stopping when he found Sam and Dean in the living room instead of the kitchen.

"You're supposed to be eating lunch," Bobby growled. "What are you doing in here? Eavesdropping?"

Dean looked ruefully at his surrogate uncle. "I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. What did he want, Uncle Bobby?"

"I'd say that's none of your business, kid. Now, get in there and eat your lunch before I decide you don't deserve any. And don't let me catch you eavesdropping on other people again, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he gently pushed Sam towards the kitchen, knowing full well that Bobby would never deny them food. The man often went head to head with their father if he ever tried to send them to bed without dinner. Bobby definitely didn't think it appropriate to deny a growing boy a much needed meal. No, he would more likely place a few well aimed smacks to said boy's backside instead.

Dean watched as Bobby went into his study and pulled out a large book before heading back out to where the man was still waiting. Once he was back out on the porch, Dean got out of his chair.

"Stay here, Sammy, and eat your lunch," he instructed his little brother."

"Dean, what are you doing? Uncle Bobby said no more… uh, what did he say?"

"Eavesdropping," Dean answered. "But that's not what I'm doing, Sammy. I just need to use the bathroom."

Sam went back to eating his lunch, not realizing that Dean wasn't being truthful. Dean made his way back to the living room window, making sure not to move the curtain too much so Bobby wouldn't see him. He watched as Bobby opened up the book and flipped through the pages before turning the book around to show the man.

Dean couldn't figure out what kind of book it was, but it didn't look like the typical book Bobby or his dad would use for a hunt. As he watched, the man closed the book and handed it back to Bobby before shaking his hand and walking back to his car. Dean scrambled away from the window and headed back to the kitchen, only to meet Bobby on his way back in.

"DEAN WINCHESTER!" Bobby yelled as he grabbed Dean by the back of his shirt as he tried to scramble by. "What did I just tell you not five minutes ago, boy?" he bellowed.

"I-I was just going to the bathroom, Uncle Bobby," Dean stammered as he tried to step out of the man's grasp. Unfortunately, Bobby had a firm grip on his shirt.

"Don't lie to me."

"I-I'm not," Dean said nervously, but quickly changed his mind after he saw the look on the man's face. "Okay, I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Without a word, Bobby turned Dean to the side and landed a sound smack on the seat of his pants. "That's for eavesdropping after I told you not to, Dean," he said just before landing another solid smack in the same place. "And that's for lying to me."

"Ow!" Dean yelped as he danced out of the way in case there were any more swats coming his way. "I'm sorry."

"Go eat your lunch, kid," Bobby said as he ran a hand over his grizzled face. "And when you're done, you're on kitchen duty. And then you're up in your room until supper."

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he made his way back into the kitchen. Sammy was staring wide-eyed at him, but didn't say anything as he watched his brother sit down with a slight grimace.

Dean gave his brother a small smile, knowing that the kid was worried about him. Dean looked around to see if Bobby had followed him into the kitchen. When he determined that he hadn't, he turned back to his brother. "I'm okay, Sammy. Uncle Bobby doesn't smack nearly as hard as Dad does."

* * *

John returned several hours later to find Sam and Bobby sitting on the porch, each drinking a cup of something steaming and hot.

"Where's Dean?" he immediately asked, knowing that his two boys were never too far away from each other.

"In his room," Bobby answered crossly.

"What the hell did the boy do this time?" John asked, his hackles immediately rising at the thought of Dean getting into trouble again so soon.

It's nothing, John. And I took care of it."

"It's not nothing, Singer. Both my boys know they're supposed to behave when I'm gone. If Dean got into trouble, I need to know about it."

Bobby put his cup down on the railing of the porch and got to his feet to face John. "I caught him eavesdropping on me and a client, John. He was worried and just trying to cover my back, just like you taught him."

"He knows better than to snoop, though, Bobby. We've had that conversation before."

Bobby knew how much John hated to repeat conversations like that with his boys, so he tried to mitigate the situation as much as possible. "I know you have. That's why I took care of it. The boy took care of some extra chores and I sent him to his room with a sore backside." John didn't need to know that the sore backside was only from a few soundly placed smacks. In Bobby's opinion, that had been punishment enough for the kid, who was only doing what he thought was right.

John eyed his friend closely. "How long is he up there for?" he finally asked.

"I told him he had to stay up there until supper," Bobby explained. "Figured that was long enough for the poor kid. You know how he gets when he's cooped up somewhere like that. A few hours for Dean is equivalent to several days for anyone else."

John laughed, knowing how true that was for his oldest son. Dean definitely didn't do well with being confined or constrained in any way.

"Did you find out anything?" Bobby asked, trying to get John's attention somewhere else.

John looked down at Sam who was reading his book again. "Hey, Sammy… why don't you go upstairs and keep your brother company for a while? If I know him, he's going crazy up there all alone."

Sam looked up at his dad, surprised that he had suggested that. Usually when one of them was sent to their room, they were to be left alone by the other sibling. "Really?" he asked. "Can I?"

"Yeah. But just this once, okay? I need to talk to Bobby."

Sam closed his book, stood up, and ran into the house excitedly. Dean had been up in their room for almost two hours and Sam was missing his brother. Once he was gone, John turned back to Bobby.

"Jim got a message from Bill Harvelle that the shapeshifter had been seen in Utah. And Caleb's cousin, Ian, sighted him in North Carolina. I don't know what to make of it, Bobby. It seems like he's everywhere, so who knows where he really is. I feel like I'm going crazy here."

"We'll find him, John. Don't give up yet."

"I'm not giving up, Singer, but I am getting pissed. The boys need to know that they're safe. And it won't be too long before Sam starts bugging me about school. I have to get things back to normal."

"When is anything normal in your life, Winchester?" Bobby scoffed.

"You know what I mean," John snarled.

"Oh, you mean Winchester normal," Bobby laughed. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I'm serious, Bobby. What am I going to do?"

"We'll figure it out, John. I'll send Caleb to check out things in North Carolina. And maybe Harvelle can follow up in Utah. We've got feelers out there everywhere. We'll find him."

John didn't look so sure of that, but he didn't argue.

"Until then, you'll stay here," Bobby continued. "The boys like it here and I can use the company."

"Thanks, Bobby," John said sincerely. "Now, what's for dinner?"

"It's your turn to cook, John," Bobby said. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"Looks like we're eating out," John answered.

* * *

John made his way up to the bedroom his boys were sharing a Iittle before six o'clock. Opening the door, he wasn't surprised to find Sam and Dean wrestling on one of the beds. Dean had been up in the room for almost six hours and John knew the boy was more than ready to explode with all the pent up energy.

"Hey!" he yelled when neither one of the boys even noticed he was in the room. "Boys!"

Sam and Dean both stopped and stared up at their dad, arms and legs tangled together, shirts riding up to bare their stomachs, and sweat dripping down their faces. "Hey, Dad," Dean called out, looking a little guilty for their rough-housing.

"You boys better not break anything up here. Bobby will kill you."

Dean jumped off the bed, straightening out his clothes in the process before coming to a stop in front of his dad.

"Bobby said you got in a little bit of trouble," John said sternly, not missing the way Dean suddenly looked guiltily away from him. "What are the rules when I leave you here, son?"

Dean looked up at his dad, knowing that the man expected him to make eye contact when answering. "We're supposed to obey Uncle Bobby," Dean responded quietly.

"And did you do that while I was gone?"

"No, sir."

"Bobby says he took care of your misbehavior. Do I need to repeat the lesson?"

"No, sir," Dean answered promptly.

"See that I don't, Dean. This is your one free pass, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay then, you boys get cleaned up. We're going into town to get some dinner."

"Can we have pizza?" Sam immediately asked.

"We had pizza last night, geekboy," Dean said. "Let's have burgers!"

"We had burgers two nights ago," Sam argued. "Dad, I want pizza!"

"What do you say we don't do either," John answered. "Let's do Mexican."

"That's okay with me as long as you're sleeping downstairs, Dad," Dean laughed.

John grabbed Dean by the neck and pulled him in closely, rubbing his head with his knuckles.

"Stop, Dad!" Dean yelled. "You're messing up my hair."

"You're such a girl, Dean," Sam laughed. "Always worried about your hair."

"Yeah, well maybe you should worry a little more about yours, Sammy. You're the one that everyone thought was a girl until you were five."

"They did not!" Sam laughed. "Dad, tell Dean that isn't true!"

"That's not true, Dean. He was almost six when they finally stopped."

"Daaaadd!" Sam whined, causing both Dean and John to burst out laughing.

"We were just teasing you, Sammy. Sorry." John reached over and grabbed Sam, pulling him into a quick hug. "Okay, you two. Go get cleaned up. You're all sweaty."

Dean started to make his way to the door, but just as he passed his father, he rammed his face into the man's stomach, rubbing all the sweat off of his face and onto John's shirt.

"There. I'm not sweaty anymore," he said before fleeing the room.

* * *

They had been at the restaurant for almost an hour when two things happened at once. John received a phone call that he had to step outside to take and Sam decided he really needed to go to the bathroom. Bobby stood up to take Sam, gesturing to Dean to follow them.

"But, I don't have to go, Uncle Bobby," Dean said.

"I'm not leaving you out here all alone, Dean, so you're coming with us."

Dean let out a loud sigh, saying something about something being stupid under his breath, but loud enough that Bobby heard.

"Watch the attitude, kid. Let's go."

Reluctantly, Dean followed his brother to the bathroom. Once inside, he figured he may as well go, too, so he quickly took care of his own business at the urinals, while Sam went into one of the stalls. Sam had been in the stall for almost five minutes, making Dean and Bobby wait awkwardly by the sinks. Eventually, Sam called out for his brother.

"Dean, there's no toilet paper in here," he called out quietly.

Dean stepped into the stall next to his brother to hand him some toilet paper. Just as he entered the stall, the bathroom door opened and John walked in.

"What's taking you so long in here?" he asked gruffly.

"Sam's still going," Bobby offered.

"Bobby, Caleb wants to talk to you, so I'll take over in here, okay? Go give him a call."

Bobby didn't hesitate to leave, anxious to get out of the bathroom. Dean handed Sam some toilet paper and then stepped out of the stall to join his father. John seemed to be somewhat impatient, but Dean really didn't notice. He was impatient himself.

"Geez, Sammy…. Come on, dude."

Just at that moment, the toilet flushed and Sam walked out. "I don't feel so good," he said quietly as he made his way over to the sink to wash his hands. Dean noticed that he looked a little pale.

"Probably all those beans you ate, Sammy," he said.

"Let's go, boys," John said as he opened the door and ushered Sam and Dean out. Dean was surprised when John led them down a long hallway towards the kitchen instead of back to their table.

"Where are we going, Dad?" he asked.

"Back to Bobby's," John answered.

"But, I wasn't done eating yet."

"Dean, your brother's sick. We need to get him home."

"Okay," Dean answered as he followed his father out a door just off the kitchen.

Once they were outside, Dean expected them to make their way back to the Impala that was parked in front of the building, but instead they headed toward the back. Immediately, he became suspicious of what was happening.

"The car's out front, Dad. Where are we going?"

John stopped walking and turned around to face his sons. "Quit asking questions, Dean, and follow me."

Sam started to follow John, but Dean grabbed his arm. "Wait!" he cried. "Where's Bobby?"

"He had to make a call, remember? Now, come on."

Dean knew something was going on, but he had no idea what. He started to follow John again, until they got to the back of the building and he saw the van that was waiting there. Immediately, he knew that this man wasn't his father.

"Sam! Run!" he yelled as loud as he could.

Sam stopped walking and stared at his brother. Before Dean could yell at Sam again, the man reached down and grabbed the smaller boy, pulling him towards the van. Without hesitation, Dean leapt forward, trying to grab Sam away from the man, who by that time had opened the sliding door to the van. Instead of fighting with Dean over the smaller boy, the man grabbed Dean by the arm, pulling him closer until he could grab him around the waist, and threw him into the van. Dean's head hit against the side of the van and his vision blurred for a few seconds. Quickly shaking off the blurriness, he watched in horror as the man threw Sam into the van, too. Luckily, the bulk of Sam's small body landed on Dean, who softened his little brother's landing with his own body. Unfortunately, Sam's weight and forward motion drove Dean's head back into the side of the van again. This time, his vision blackened and Dean found himself hopelessly and unwillingly giving into the darkness.

* * *

Author's note: What? Someone got the drop on John Winchester? I don't think he'll be too happy about that. Well, it seems like our boys are in a little situation here. I had no idea this chapter was going to bring us to this point, so I'm as surprised as you all are by this turn of events. I wish someone would tell me what's going to happen, lol.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, please? Was John too easy on Dean for lying and disobeying Bobby? Was Bobby too easy or too hard on the boy? Were the action parts easy to read? I'd really love to hear some feedback from you all. It really does help to shape the story into what it needs to be.

Thanks again and take care. And if anyone is going to the Seattle Supernatural convention next weekend, I'd love to connect with you.


	9. Once Upon a TIme

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 9

* * *

John Winchester was terrified. And a whole lot pissed. In all his years of hunting, he had never felt like such a failure. Or in all of his years of being a father, either, for that matter. To think that someone had gotten the drop on him was also embarrassing for a hunter of his caliber. _How had he let that happen?! How had he not realized that they weren't safe anywhere?_

He had gone outside to make a phone call to Caleb, wanting to check in one more time before the day was over. Caleb didn't have anything to report and John was just about to go back inside the restaurant when someone suddenly stepped up behind him and hit him over the head with something heavy. He had no idea how long he was unconscious and had no memory of what had happened. One minute he was putting his phone back in his pocket and the next, he was being helped up into a sitting position by a very concerned looking Bobby.

"What the hell happened, John? Where are the boys?"

John looked up at Bobby dazedly, not truly comprehending what the man was asking. He felt the back of his head and wasn't surprised to find his fingers covered in blood when he brought them back around. "Bobby?" he asked in confusion.

"Where are the boys, John? Where's Sam and Dean?"

"What do you mean?" John asked. "They're with you, Bobby. What are you talking about?"

Bobby quickly stood up and started looking around frantically. It was just at that time that he heard a sound that nearly stopped his heart. Running toward the sound of the scream that sounded suspiciously like Dean, Bobby turned the corner just in time to see a dark gray van speed out of the parking lot. He cursed old age and his poor eyesight when he couldn't make out the rapidly vanishing license plate number.

Once he couldn't see the van anymore, Bobby quickly made his way back to where John was still trying to get his wits about him. "John, we need to go. Now!" Bobby tried to help John to his feet, but the larger man kept listing off to the left, nearly falling again. Rummaging through his friend's jacket pocket for his keys, Bobby gave another command. "John! Stay here. I'm gonna go get the Impala."

Less than a minute later, Bobby pulled the Impala up next to his friend and jumped out of the car to help the man. It took some doing, but eventually John was situated in the front seat and Bobby was speeding off down the street, in the same direction the van had gone. It was almost a full minute before John seemed to really realize what was going on.

"Bobby, where are my boys?! What are you doing?!"

Bobby didn't take his eyes off the road in front of him as he answered. "Someone took them, John."

"What do you mean "someone took them," Bobby? You were supposed to be watching them!"

"I was, Winchester! But you came back and told me that I needed to call Caleb. I left the boys with you."

"What are you talking about?! I never told you that Caleb needed to talk to you and I never came back inside."

"What the hell happened, then?" Bobby asked.

"The shapeshifter, Bobby. It was here. And it has my boys. Damn it!"

"I saw a gray van speeding out of the parking lot, John. And I heard Dean yelling right before that."

By this time, John was sitting straight up in the seat and was looking out the window. His whole world had just collapsed around him and he had no idea what to do next.

* * *

Dean Winchester was terrified. And a whole lot pissed. But mostly terrified. He couldn't believe that the shapeshifter had been able to trick them. And he couldn't believe his dad had allowed this to happen. In all of his eleven years, he had always felt safe and protected whenever his father was around, but now that illusion was shattered. _Even the great John Winchester couldn't keep Sammy completely safe._

Before Dean opened his eyes, he took an inventory of his injuries and the general state of his whole being. The first and foremost issue was the giant knot he felt on the back of his head and the unbearable headache that accompanied it. Along with the headache came an almost debilitating dizziness and a fierce feeling of nausea. Moving on down the line, he realized that his back was hurting immensely and his left arm was throbbing.

Once he had finished his inventory and immediately upon realizing that Sammy was burrowed into his side, he opened his eyes and looked around. Seeing the inside of the van, he immediately remembered everything that had happened. They had been in the bathroom because Sammy wasn't feeling good and then their dad showed up, sent Bobby away, and led them outside. Dean remembered the feeling in his gut that something wasn't right, but he hadn't acted fast enough on that feeling. Instead, he had waited until it was too late to do anything to prevent the monster from taking them.

Looking down at his brother, he was relieved that Sam was asleep. Dean couldn't see very well in the back of the van, but every once in a while a street light would shine through the window just enough for him to make out his brother's face. He wasn't surprised to see Sam's pale face covered in a sheen of sweat because he could actually feel the heat radiating off of the kid.

Looking up towards the front of the van, he also wasn't surprised to see what looked like his dad driving. Just as he looked up, the man's eyes met him in the rearview mirror.

"Don't do anything stupid, kid," the man said. Maybe monster was a better word for him, but Dean didn't have the strength to even think about the difference. Some men could be monsters and some monsters could be men.

"Where are you taking us?" Dean asked. He was relieved that his voice sounded strong and wasn't as shaky as the rest of him.

"Don't worry about that. Just sit there and be quiet, kid."

"My dad's gonna find us, you know? And he's gonna make you wish you hadn't been stupid enough to take us."

"You think so?" the man asked. "What if I told you your dad won't ever find you? That he would spend the rest of his days looking for you? What do you think of that?"

"I think you don't know my dad," Dean answered. "He'll find us."

The man's eyes seemed to shimmer in the moonlight that came in through his window and a chill went through Dean. He knew that the way to take care of a shapeshifter was to use a silver blade or a silver bullet, but he didn't have access to either. And he doubted that the shapeshifter would be stupid enough to leave anything with silver in it just laying around.

As he was trying to come up with a plan to get out of the predicament they were in, Sam started to moan and move around. Dean, whose left arm was clutched against his chest in an attempt to protect it, moved his right arm around his brother. He had hoped that Sam would stay asleep until he had come up with some sort of plan, but as usual, luck wasn't on his side.

"Dean? I don't feel so good," Sam moaned miserably when he looked up and saw his brother.

"I know, Sammy. Just stay still, okay?"

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up, Dean."

"Hey, remember what Uncle Bobby said when you were sick last summer? He kept telling you to take deep breaths, remember? Try that, Sammy. Okay?"

Dean could feel Sam trying to slow his breathing down and he could feel his chest rise with each deep breath. "There you go, little bro. Just keep doing that?"

After several minutes, Sam started moaning again. "It's not working, Dean," he cried. Seconds later, he leaned forward and threw up all over the floorboard of the van. Dean tried to move them out of the way of the vomit, knowing how miserable they would be if it got on their clothes and they had to smell it.

"Hey," he called out to the man. "Sammy's sick."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Can we pull over?" Dean asked. "He needs some fresh air or something."

The man eyed Dean closely in the mirror before slowing down and pulling over on the road. "We're just stopping for a few minutes. And don't try anything stupid."

Once the van had stopped, the man got out and came around to open up the side door. "I mean it, kid. Nothing stupid."

Dean wasn't concerned about trying to escape at the moment. His only concern was to get Sammy out of the back of the van and get him some fresh air. "I won't," he replied as he moved over to the door. Once he was out of the van, he encouraged Sam to move over to him. "Come on, Sammy. Get out of the van, okay?"

Sam crawled out of the van and stood next to his big brother on obviously shaky legs. For the first time, he seemed to realize that there was a man standing next to them. And, of course, he thought it was his dad.

"Daddy? I don't feel good."

"I'm not your daddy, kid," the man growled.

Sam looked at the man in complete confusion. "Daddy…."

Dean realized that he couldn't continue to let his little brother think that their dad was being so mean and callous. He knew Sam would be scared, but he had to tell him the truth.

"Sam, that's not Dad," he started. Sam looked at him like he was crazy.

"It is, too, Dean," he argued.

"Sammy, remember what happened at school? When we thought it was Mr. Morrison trying to take you away, but it wasn't?" Sam nodded his head, so Dean continued. "This is the same thing, Sammy. He just looks like Dad, but he's not him."

"That doesn't make sense," Sam answered quietly.

"He's a shapeshifter, Sammy. And he took us away from Dad and Uncle Bobby."

"Okay, that's enough," the man suddenly yelled. "We need to get back on the road."

Just at that time, Sam started moaning again. "I'm gonna throw up again," he cried miserably.

Dean pulled his little brother over to the end of the vehicle and rubbed his back gently as he proceeded to empty his stomach again. Dean could tell that it was mostly just stomach acid coming up and hoped that meant that Sammy would stop throwing up.

And eventually, he did. After a few more episodes with minimal vomit, followed by horrible dry heaves that wracked his small body, Sam finally stood up and looked at Dean, his face pale and sweaty, and his eyes filled with tears. "I want Daddy," he cried.

Dean looked over at the man who was obviously becoming more and more impatient and annoyed with each passing second. He figured the safest thing to do was to not make the man too mad at this point. "I know you do, Sammy. And we'll get to see him soon, okay? Right now we just need to stay together and get back in the van."

Sam followed Dean back to the van and climbed in, trying not to step in the puddles of sick. Dean turned back to look at the man. "Do you have something I can clean this up with?" he asked.

"Just get in!" the man growled.

Dean climbed in next to Sam and pulled him over to the far side. Once seated, he pulled his little brother into his lap, being careful not to jostle his own left arm too much in the process.

"How are you feeling, Sammy?"

"My tummy hurts," Sam answered quietly.

"I know, dude. Just try not to think about it, okay?" Dean knew that wasn't going to work, but he thought he'd try. "Hey, about if I tell you a story?"

"Okay," Sammy said weakly.

Dean pulled Sam a little closer into him, leaving his right arm to rest across Sam's chest. "What kind of story do you want, Sammy? A story about a kangaroo that got lost at the mall? Or how about one about a turtle that wanted to be a speed skater in the Olympics?"

"I wanna hear a story about us, Dean. About when Mommy was alive."

Dean couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. Sam always wanted to know more about their mother, but truth be told, Dean really didn't have a lot of memories of her. He remembered little things, though. Like how her hair glowed in the sunlight and how her eyes crinkled up like his when she smiled. And he remembered sometimes how she smelled….like sunshine and rain at the same time, fresh and clean. But Sam wanted stories, so Dean would tell him stories of what he hoped life would have been like if their mother hadn't died. Grand, wonderful stories of love and happiness, home cooked meals and cookies baking in the oven, kisses on boo-boos and cuddles after nightmares.

"Okay, buddy," Dean answered as he geared himself up to tell Sam a story. "Once upon a time, there were two little boys named Sammy and Dean…."

* * *

Author's note: I know this is a rather short chapter, but I'm going on a trip (Seattle Supernatural Convention!) tomorrow and really wanted to post something before I left. I'm not a big fan of leaving readers hanging off cliffs for too long, lol.

Dean and Sam are in a little bit of trouble, but don't worry….John and Bobby are on the case. And we know how awesome that is, right? In the meantime, I'm thinking that Dean will do whatever he needs to do to take care of his little brother.

In case any of you are following my other Supernatural story, Meet Me on the Battlefield, I should have a new chapter up next week sometime. And I also wanted to shamelessly plug a one-shot I recently wrote called The Rules Are Simple. If you ever wondered what Dean meant when he told Sam that you don't take a joint from a guy named Don, give it a read. It's good for a few good laughs.

Thanks for reading!


	10. Desperate Times

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 10

Desperate Times

* * *

Dean had no idea how long they had been driving or even what time it was. All he knew was that he felt awful and was utterly terrified. His head was still pounding and his stomach was continuously threatening to turn itself inside out. But worse than any of that was the fact that Sammy was crying and moaning, his head buried in Dean's lap, his little hands gripping Dean's shirt tightly.

"Dean, I wanna go home," Sam cried miserably. "I want Daddy!"

"I know, Sammy. I wanna go home, too. But we have to wait, okay? Dad and Uncle Bobby will find us soon," Dean whispered as quietly as he could, pulling Sam even closer to him in an attempt to alleviate some of the jostling from the van's movement.

After several more minutes of driving, Dean felt the van leave the paved road, entering onto what felt like a gravel road. He tried to look out the front window, but couldn't see much more than the road in front of them. Remembering something that his dad told him once, he immediately started counting out the seconds as they were driving. He wasn't sure what to do with the information, since he had no idea how fast the van was driving, but he counted nevertheless. _At least, it gave him something to focus on other than the pounding headache that was threatening to make him pass out._

Dean had counted to two hundred and eighty-nine when the van finally rolled to a stop. Sitting up straighter, he watched as the man got out of the van, opening the sliding door just seconds later.

"Get out," the man ordered.

When Dean didn't move fast enough, the man reached out and grabbed him by the leg, yanking him forward savagely. Sam's body was pushed away by the force of Dean being pulled, causing the half-asleep little boy to cry out when his head banged on the floor of the van. Dean also cried out when his injured arm hit against the side of the van on the way out.

"I said get out!" the man yelled.

Dean wasn't quite all the way out of the van, so the man yanked him forward again, this time by his injured arm. Dean's vision went black from the immense pain he felt, but it didn't stop him from kicking out with his legs, catching the man squarely in the stomach.

"Damn it!" the man yelled as he stumbled backwards and nearly fell to the ground. If Dean had been by himself, he would have immediately taken off, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the man. But he wasn't by himself and he couldn't leave his brother.

Before the man stepped back to the van, Dean turned around and checked on Sammy, who was now backed up into the corner of the van. He motioned for Sam to slide toward him, but could tell by the way he was acting that Sam was paralyzed with fear. He was just about to climb back into the van to get to his brother when the man suddenly reappeared behind him. Dean could tell the man was downright pissed off and he couldn't stop the feeling of sheer terror that suddenly overcame him. Turning back to face the man, he wasn't surprised when the man raised his arm and slapped him hard across the face.

Immediately, several things happened at once. Dean was knocked backwards, hitting his hip on the floor of the van before falling down to his knees. At the same time, he heard what could only be described as a war cry coming from the corner of the van. Seconds later, Sam launched himself out of the van and straight into the arms of the man, his small fists pelting their kidnapper with frantic punches.

"Leave Dean alone!" Sam cried. "Don't hurt him!"

"Sam!" Dean yelled as he tried to pull himself back to his feet. "Sam, stop!"

By this time, the man had had enough of the two Winchester brothers and grabbing Sam by his hair, he quickly subdued the small boy before turning back to Dean. "Get up! And don't try anything or I'll have to hurt the kid."

Dean knew the man was telling the truth, so he got to his feet and fast as he could. He would do whatever he had to do to keep Sammy safe. Once the man was sure they weren't going to fight him anymore, he pushed Dean ahead of him, keeping his hand firmly latched onto Sam's hair as an insurance policy that they wouldn't' try anything else.

Dean walked forward, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure that Sam was okay. They were walking through a dense wood and he found himself stumbling over the uneven ground as he tried to make his way in the not quite bright enough light of the moon. After walking for several minutes, Dean could finally make out the shape of a cabin just ahead. He stopped once he got to the cabin's porch, not wanting to continue up the stairs unless he had to.

"What did you stop for?" the man asked as he painfully prodded Dean in the back. "Get in the house!"

Dean scrambled up the stairs and opened the door. Stepping into the small cabin, he immediately looked around, taking in his surroundings like he had been taught to do. There was a small living room/kitchen/dining room combination with two doors off to one side and another door off to the other side. He wasn't surprised when the man pushed both of them over to the left side of the room, towards one of the doors.

"Open that door," he instructed Dean.

Dean turned the handle and opened the door, seeing a small staircase that led down into a dark space.

"Go on! What are you waiting for?!"

Dean tentatively stepped forward into the darkness, carefully stepping down the first few steps before stopping, afraid that he might fall down the stairs.

"I can't see anything," he said.

"You don't need to see anything. Just walk."

Dean took a few more cautious steps down, his hands gripping the wooden stair rail tightly. Once the man was through the door and onto the steps himself, he must have figured that it _was_ actually too dark to negotiate the stairs safely because a light suddenly came on. Dean turned to see the man holding up a small flashlight.

"Go!" he growled.

Sam, who was in between Dean and their kidnapper, reached out and grabbed the back of his brother's shirt. Dean felt himself calm a little with his brother's touch and he hoped Sam felt the same. He knew his little brother was terrified and it really made him mad. It was his job to protect Sammy, after all.

Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, the man stepped over to the right and turned on a small lamp. Dean looked around the small basement, noticing immediately that the one small window was completely boarded up. He also noticed a bed in one corner and a small table with two chairs.

The man pushed Sam forward and Dean instantly latched onto his brother, pulling him to him and then behind him.

"Don't bother yelling for help," the man said. "There's no one around for miles, so no one will hear you. And don't try to escape. You won't like the consequences of that."

Pointing over to the far corner of the room, the man continued. "The bathroom is over there." With that, he turned to leave, as if that was all there was to it.

"Wait!" Dean cried. "Wait! You can't leave us down here."

The man kept walking up the stairs, ignoring Dean. Once he was through the door, Dean heard the door shut and the lock being turned. Running up the stairs, Dean jiggled the door knob, trying to open the door even though he knew it was locked.

"Hey! Hey, let us out!" he yelled, knowing he was just wasting his breath. He couldn't help the tears of frustration that suddenly filled his eyes, but he knew he couldn't let Sam see him cry. Taking a few deep breaths, he turned around and walked back down the stairs and back to Sammy.

* * *

Bobby and John drove for what seemed like hours without any luck at all in finding the boys. Eventually, Bobby suggested that they return to the restaurant and start asking around to see if anyone saw the van or recognized it. They had no luck, of course, because by this time the restaurant had closed and all the potential witnesses had left.

"What are we going to do, Bobby?" John asked desperately.

"We're going to do what we always do, John. We're going to hunt this thing down and we're going to find our boys."

John took some comfort in his friend's words, but he still felt like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. In all of his years, he had never felt so lost or so desperate, and it scared him. _This wasn't the time to lose it! He had to keep it together!_

"Listen," Bobby continued. "I know a guy in the Sioux Falls police department. Let me make a call and see if he can help us out."

"I don't want the police involved, Singer," John immediately answered.

"He's a friend, John. He'll keep it quiet for now."

John knew he didn't have any better ideas, so he agreed. He sat in the Impala while Bobby made his phone call, trying to read his friend's lips without much success. After a few minutes, Bobby returned to the car, climbing in behind the wheel.

"Well?"

"He's going to look into it. He didn't recognize the description of the van, but that doesn't mean anything. In the meantime, we need to get that head wound cleaned up. You're still bleeding all over the place."

John didn't say anything as they made their way back to Bobby's house. He felt a sudden desolation wash over him when he walked into the house and immediately stepped on one of Sammy's toy cars.

"Oh, God, Bobby! We have to find them," he sobbed. "They're all I have!"

"We'll find them, John. I swear. And when we do, that man won't know what hit him," Bobby said in a cold and angry voice.

If John wasn't feeling the same way, he would have been scared by the chill in Bobby's voice.

* * *

Dean led Sam over to the bed, taking in the sight of the one thin blanket that covered it. He knew the blanket wasn't big enough to cover both of them, but it would have to do.

"Hey, Sammy…I don't know about you, but I'm tired. What do you say we try to get some sleep, okay?"

"I need to use the bathroom, Dean," Sam said in a small voice.

Dean led him over to the curtained off area in the corner. Looking around the corner, he was surprised to see a toilet and a small sink. He hadn't expected the small cabin to have actual running water.

"There you go, Sammy," he said as he pulled the curtain aside. "I'll be right out here, okay?"

"Okay." Sam stepped past the curtain, but stopped when Dean started to close it. "No!" he yelled. "Don't leave me, Dean!"

"I'm not leaving, Sam. I'll be right here, I promise."

Sam was still scared, but he allowed Dean to pull the curtain shut. A short time later, Dean heard the toilet flush and the water turn on in the sink. When Sam stepped back around the curtain, he could tell that his brother still wasn't feeling well.

"You okay?" he asked.

"My stomach still hurts," Sam answered.

"Maybe you'll feel better after you sleep," Dean said, hoping that was true. Leading Sam over to the bed, he pulled back the blanket, exposing the disgusting mattress underneath. Trying not to think about where all the stains had come from, Dean climbed into bed and patted the space next to him. "Here you go, Sam."

Sam crawled in next to his brother and snuggled into his side. Dean could feel the small body trembling next to him and he wondered if it was from the cold of the basement or the sickness that had taken over. Or maybe it was because his brother was so scared. Knowing what he had to do, Dean pulled the blanket up over Sam and started talking.

"Hey, Sammy….Remember that time we went to the carnival and rode all those rides? And you beat me at that ring toss game?"

"Yeah," his brother answered softly.

"And remember those deep-fried twinkies Dad let us buy? Those were so good, remember?

"And the curly-fries."

"Yeah, those were the best! Remember when the ketchup bottle exploded and ketchup landed all over Dad? He was so mad at us because we wouldn't stop laughing."

Sam started laughing at the memory. "He had ketchup in his ear!"

"And up his nose," Dean laughed.

"And in his hair!"

"Everywhere but on his curly-fries," Dean laughed even harder.

Sam turned his face up to look at his brother. "Dean? When we get out of here can we ask Dad to take us to a carnival?"

"Of course, we can! And maybe Uncle Bobby can come, too."

"I can't wait to see Uncle Bobby riding the Ferris Wheel. He hates it," Sam said with a big yawn.

Dean continued to talk about the carnival until he heard Sam's breathing even out. Looking down at his brother, he could tell that Sam was asleep and for the first time since they had been taken, Dean allowed himself to cry, not ashamed to let the tears roll down his face. He had no idea what he was going to do. He had no idea how he was going to keep his brother safe. And he was really, really scared.

Closing his eyes, he did something that he hadn't done in a long time. He prayed. He vaguely remembered how his mother always prayed with him before bed and how she always said that angels were watching over him. And he really, really hoped that was true.

* * *

Author's note: Here's another one for you. It's a little shorter than some, but this just seemed like a good place to stop it for now.

Bobby and John aren't much closer to finding the boys, but they're working on it. And Dean's being the Dean we all love and is watching out for Sammy. You gotta love the kid, right?

Thanks to all who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. You are all so appreciated. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and on the story as a whole. I'm hoping to have a new chapter of Meet Me on the Battlefield up soon, but I've had a little bit of writer's block with that one. I won't abandon it though, I promise.

And just so you know… the Seattle Supernatural convention was amazing! So much fun!


	11. Heroes and Villains

Watch Out for Sammy

Chapter 11

Heroes and Villains

* * *

John barely slept at all, tossing and turning constantly in an attempt to find a comfortable position, or waking up minutes after falling asleep when he quickly fell into nightmares of monsters hurting his sons. When the sun finally came up the next morning, he was already downstairs, making phone calls to every hunter he could think of.

Bobby found his friend pacing back and forth in the small kitchen, downing cup after cup of coffee as he yelled at whoever he was talking to on the phone. John held a certain amount of respect among their fellow hunters, but for the most part, no one really liked the man. He was a hard-ass that usually found himself on the wrong side of any relationship because of his attitude and gruffness. Not that other hunters weren't gruff, really, but John was a whole different breed of gruffness.

By the end of the conversation, Bobby had figured out that John was talking to Caleb and was obviously not liking what he was hearing. It wasn't too much longer before the man hung up the phone, cursing a blue streak while he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator.

"John, it's barely seven in the morning," Bobby chided as he watched the man open the beer.

"I know what time it is, Singer," John grumbled.

"Well, then, you know it's way too early to be drinking, I guess."

John just stared at the man as he took a long drink from the bottle.

"What did Caleb have to say?" Bobby asked, knowing that he wasn't going to get John to put the bottle down.

"Not a damn thing," John growled. "And he calls himself a hunter."

"He's a good hunter, John. He learned from one of the best."

"Yeah, well I think he's forgotten every damn thing I ever taught him."

"I doubt that. This shapeshifter is just good at what he does, John. But, we'll find him."

John looked unusually defeated and that wasn't something Bobby was used to seeing. John never gave up on anything, especially when his boys were involved, but this time seemed different. _He_ seemed different. In fact, the man seemed somehow smaller than he was. Diminished and broken. Bobby hated seeing his old friend in such a way, but he understood why. Sam and Dean were everything to John Winchester. Without them, he would cease to exist.

Trying to get his mind off of the sad figure standing before him, Bobby was just about to ask John what their plan for the day was, but John spoke first.

"What have I done, Bobby?"

"What do you mean, Winchester?"

"This is all my fault. I brought this down on my own head. What would Mary think about all of this?"

"John, this isn't your fault."

"Yes, it is. I killed the man's family, Bobby. Every single member of his family."

"He's not a man, John. He's a monster. And his family was preying on innocent people. They had to be stopped."

John knew that Bobby was right, but all he could focus on was the fact the Sam and Dean had been taken from him because of something he had done. _He was the one to put them in danger. And he was the one that failed to protect them._

"So, what are we going to do?" he finally asked, knowing that he needed to pull himself out of the despair he was feeling and focus on the job ahead.

"I say we go back to the restaurant and ask around. Maybe one of the employees saw something."

"But they won't open for a few hours yet."

"Let me make another call to my friend then. Maybe he found something useful."

John listened closely as Bobby called his friend from the Sioux Falls police department, praying the whole time that the man had something helpful to tell them.

* * *

Dean barely slept at all, tossing and turning constantly in an attempt to find a comfortable position, or waking up minutes after falling asleep when he quickly fell into nightmares of monsters hurting his little brother. He had no idea what time it was since the window was boarded up and no natural light could be seen in the basement. Days could have passed and he wouldn't even have known.

Sam was still sleeping restlessly next to him, his head resting in the crook of Dean's arm. Dean looked his brother over closely, happy to see that his color looked more normal. He was also relieved that Sam had slept through the night, not waking up at all to throw up. Hopefully, whatever sickness had taken over the small boy had already completely run its course and Sam would be feeling better when he woke up.

Dean wasn't feeling too good himself, and he wondered if maybe he was going to be brought down by the same bug that had ravished Sammy. Before he could even finish that thought, his stomach churned with nausea and he jumped out of bed, making his way to the small bathroom area as fast as he could. Sam stirred at the suddenness of Dean's movements, looking wildly around the room.

"Dean?" he called out in confusion. "Dean, where are you?"

In between the violet rushes of vomit that were now racking his body, Dean tried to answer his brother, not wanting to frighten him anymore than he already was. "I-I'm right here, S-S-Sammy!"

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as he made his way over to Dean, who was still hanging over the toilet.

"I-I'm okay. Just give me a second."

Sam sat down on the floor next to the curtain, waiting patiently for Dean to finish. A few minutes later, Dean came around the curtain, his legs shaking so much he could barely hold himself upright. Making his way back over to the bed, he fell onto it bonelessly, his breath coming in short little pants.

"Dean?"

"I'm okay, Sammy," Dean said again.

Sam moved over to the bed, too, sitting down on the edge of it, as close to his brother as he could without touching him. Dean rolled over onto his side, facing his brother. He looked up into Sam's worried face, but really didn't have the strength to even attempt to make his brother feel better.

They sat like that on the bed for almost an hour- Dean trying to keep his stomach from rebelling again and Sammy watching every move Dean made. Eventually, Dean had to make his way back to the bathroom again to empty his stomach of its meager contents. Just as he was coming back from the bathroom, the door to the basement opened and footsteps started down the stairs. Dean quickly made his way over to Sam, pushing his brother behind him protectively.

They watched as the man made his way down the stairs and stepped over to them. Dean didn't take his eyes off of the man for a single second. He didn't loosen his grasp on his brother either.

"Morning, boys. How'd you sleep?"

Dean just stared at the man, choosing not to answer.

"What? Not much of a morning person, are you? Well, doesn't matter to me if you talk or not. In fact, it'll probably go better for both of us if you don't."

The man stared at Dean, making him more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Dean wondered if he could grab Sam and make his way up the stairs without the man stopping him, but realized immediately how impossible, and how stupid, that would be.

"Don't even think about trying to escape, boy," the man said with a grin. "You're not going anywhere, so you might as well make yourself comfortable. I have a feeling you're going to be here for a while."

"My dad will come for us," Sam said from behind Dean. Dean tightened his grasp on Sam's arm, trying to get him to stop talking.

"Your dad will never find you," the man answered. "What makes you think he's even looking for you, anyway?"

"He's looking for us," Dean answered. "He won't let you get away with this."

"Get away with what? Taking his family from him? Why shouldn't I get away with it? He took my family away from me."

"What do you mean?" Dean couldn't help but ask, even though he knew something about what the man was saying.

"Your daddy killed my whole family, kid. Every single one of them. He doesn't deserve to have his family living and breathing. He deserves to lose everything. Just like I did."

"Daddy killed someone?" Sam asked in a quiet voice.

Dean shushed Sam before turning back to the man. "He had a reason. For killing your family. I heard him talking about it after you tried to take Sammy at school. He said your family was hurting other people. That he had to stop them to save everyone else. That's what he does, you know? He saves people."

"You think so, huh? You think your daddy's a hero or something?"

"He _is_ a hero," Dean said matter-of-factly.

"He won't be saving _you_ , kid. Your daddy won't be finding you, I can promise you that."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," Dean answered snidely.

"Yeah," Sammy interjected as he peered out from behind Dean. "Uncle Bobby says that all the time."

Dean pushed his brother back behind him. "He's gonna find us and when he does he's gonna kill you. Just like he killed your family."

Without hesitation, the man took two steps forward and slapped Dean across the face with the back of his hand, causing the boy to lose his balance and fall to the floor. Before he could get up, the man grabbed him by his already injured arm and pulled him to his feet, eliciting a cry of pain from his lips.

"You should shut your mouth, boy," he said as he loomed over Dean. "Unless you want more of that."

Dean backed up a few steps, making sure that Sam was well and truly behind him. Without another word, the man turned around and walked back up the stairs, slamming and locking the door behind him. Sam quickly scrambled out from behind his brother, searching his face for confirmation that he was okay. Dean's right cheek was bright red from the slap and his eyes were tearing up, but he tried to play it off so as not to scare his brother.

"It's okay, Sammy. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"I wanna go home, Dean," Sam cried. "I want Daddy."

"I know you do, Sammy. I do, too. But, we can't go right now, okay?"

"Yes, we can! We can just leave, Dean. I wanna leave."

Dean didn't want to have to tell his brother that they were trapped in the basement, but he didn't see any way around it.

"Sammy, the door is locked. We can't get out of here right now."

Sam started crying even harder as he clung onto Dean. Dean pulled Sam over to the bed and they both climbed into it. Dean made sure that Sam was laying on the right side of him so that his injured arm wouldn't be bumped too much and Sam snuggled up into his side, eventually crying himself back to sleep. Just as Dean was about to fall asleep again, his stomach started roiling and he had to make his way back to the bathroom. He was sure he hadn't ever felt so miserable.

* * *

John wasn't surprised to hear that Bobby's cop friend didn't have any real leads on the gray van. The man was currently running a search for stolen vehicles in any neighboring states, though, and promised that he would get back to them as soon as he could.

At ten o'clock, John and Bobby made their way back to the restaurant, hoping to find out something, _anything_ that might be helpful in their search. Unfortunately, the manager on duty informed them that the staff scheduled that day wasn't the same staff that had been there the day before. It didn't take long, though, for Bobby to convince the manager to call them all in for an emergency meeting.

As they waited for everyone to arrive, John paced back and forth, making the manager and staff really nervous. Bobby tried to calm his friend down, but John was way past the point of that.

It took almost an hour for all of the previous day's staff to show up and when they did, Bobby and John immediately started questioning them. Bobby was talking to his third staff member when John suddenly stood up and called out his name.

"Bobby! I've got something here."

Bobby made his way over to John, who was talking to a young man. He had barely made it to the table when John started talking loudly and gesturing frantically.

"He saw him, Bobby! He saw the van pull in yesterday when he was taking out the trash. And he says he's seen it out on the highway before, too."

Bobby could barely contain his own excitement at what he was hearing. Sitting down at the table, he started asking the kid questions, not caring if he was just repeating questions he had already been asked. By the time he was done with his interrogation, they had developed somewhat of a search perimeter. The kid had apparently seen the van on the same five mile stretch of highway repeatedly.

John felt like he could have kissed the young man for being so observant, but he didn't have time. Now that they had an idea of where the man was, he wanted to be out on the road, searching until he found his boys. Without a second of hesitation, he walked out the door and out to the Impala.

Bobby quickly thanked the restaurant manager and staff and then followed John out the door. He knew they needed a better plan than just driving up and down a stretch of road, hoping to find what they were looking for, but he was willing to do just that, intending to call his police friend to update him on what they had found out along the way. While John drove, Bobby made his phone call, hoping desperately that they were finally on the right track.

* * *

By the time Dean had emptied his stomach for the fifth time, his head was spinning and his heart was racing. He remembered the last time he had been sick, remembering how his dad had told him of the importance of staying hydrated. He tried to drink some water from the bathroom faucet, but the minute it hit his stomach, he was throwing up again. His gut ached from the aggressive heaving and his head was pounding. Luckily, though, Sammy had slept through most of it, something that Dean was extremely grateful for.

Eventually, he made his way back to the bed and climbed in next to his brother, trying not to wake him. He managed to fall asleep for a short period of time and when he woke up again, he unfortunately felt even worse.

Sam was sitting on the small bed, staring at his brother and chewing on one of his fingernails. Dean knew that this was something that Sam did when he was worried or scared, and it nearly broke his heart. He could also tell that Sam had been crying again.

"Hey, Sammy," he croaked, his throat feeling as dry as a desert.

"Hey, Dean," Sammy answered quietly.

"How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know," Sam answered. "But you've been sleeping for a long time."

Dean was pretty sure that he really hadn't been asleep for that long, but knew that it would seem longer to a seven year old. Especially this particular seven year old. Sam hated whenever he woke up before Dean. Usually, he would do anything and everything he could to make his brother wake up, so Dean appreciated that this time he had let him sleep.

"Are you still sick, Dean?" Sam asked, looking at his brother nervously.

"I feel better," he lied, hoping that Sam wouldn't catch on that he was lying.

"I'm hungry, Dean. And bored."

Dean suddenly realized that they hadn't eaten anything at all since they had been taken. He wasn't hungry himself, but he knew that Sam was now that he felt better. A surge of anger shot through him when he realized that the man hadn't given them any food.

"I know you're hungry, Sammy, but we'll have to wait, okay? I'm sure he'll bring us something to eat soon."

"I don't like that man," Sam mumbled. "He's mean."

Dean didn't know what to say to that so he just stayed quiet. It didn't take long for Sam to continue, though.

"Dean? Did Dad really kill that man's family?"

Now, Dean _really_ didn't know what to say. He knew it would be hard for Sam to understand why their father had to kill the man's family and he really didn't want to have to explain to his seven year old brother that monsters actually existed. After a long pause, he finally came up with a story that he thought Sam would understand.

"Sam, remember when that man tried to take you from the school?" When his brother nodded, Dean continued. "This is the same man, Sammy."

"What? But he doesn't look like Mr. Morrison, Dean."

"That's because he has super powers, Sammy. Like Spiderman or Superman. His super power is that he can change into anything he wants."

"That's cool," Sam answered childishly.

"Yeah, but it also means that he can use his super powers to hurt people, remember? He changed himself to look like Mr. Morrison so you would trust him enough to go off with him. He used his powers to trick you, Sammy."

"That wasn't nice," Sam said quietly. "I don't like to be tricked."

"That's why Dad killed his family, Sammy. Because they were all tricking people and hurting them. Dad made sure they couldn't do that anymore. He saved people, Sammy."

"He did?"

"Yep! That's what he does. He saves people."

"And he's gonna save us, right, Dean?"

"Of course, he is," Dean answered. "We just have to wait here until he does."

"Okay," Sam answered quietly. "Dean? Can you tell me another story? Please?"

Dean looked up into his brother's eyes, noticing how red they were from all the crying he had done recently. "Sure, Sammy. What kind of story do you want?"

"I wanna hear a story about the kangaroo that got lost at the mall."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean laughed. "Once upon a time there was this little kangaroo…"

* * *

Author's note: Well, it seems that John and Bobby are slowly closing in on their prey. But in the meantime, what's going to happen to Sam and Dean? Any ideas? Thoughts?

Thank you all so much for reading. And a special thanks for all of you who take the time to review. Your reviews really are appreciated.


	12. Remember When Mistakes Were Made

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 12

Remember When Mistakes Were Made

* * *

John was frustrated with the way the search was going so far. He had driven up and down the same stretch of road at least ten times, hoping against all reason that he would come across the gray van that had disappeared in the night with his boys. Bobby was currently at City Hall, trying to get maps of the area that would show the various properties and whether or not they were currently inhabited. John knew these things took time, but his patience was running extremely thin. He was terrified. He needed his boys back safe and sound. And he needed them back now.

* * *

When Dean woke up again, his head was pounding even more than before. For the first time since everything had happened, he wondered if maybe he had a concussion. He knew that would explain the headache, dizziness, and nausea he was feeling, so he figured it was likely that he did have one. As he lay on the bed, he searched his memory for whatever he could remember about concussions, which wasn't much.

His thoughts quickly led him to remembering an incident that happened when he was eight years old.

 _***Flashback***_

It was one of the first times their Dad had left them alone for longer than just a few hours and Dean had to admit that he had been looking forward to it. He had been trying to prove to his dad that he was responsible enough to take of care of Sammy while the man was gone and he was finally getting that chance.

Dean couldn't remember exactly where they had been at the time, but he remembered that for once they had been staying in a rented house, rather than some crappy motel room. John thought that leaving two small boys alone in a motel room would draw more attention than if he left them in a house where no one would be around to know that they were alone.

Dean had been given strict instructions on what was expected of him…. Stay in the house, keep the doors and windows locked and salted, don't answer the phone unless he knew for sure it was John, and most importantly, watch out for Sammy. Dean _knew_ that was the most important thing and he tried his best to do exactly that, but things happened.

Sam, who was four years old and full of energy, hated being locked inside the house when the sun was shining so brightly outside. They had only been alone for three hours when the whining and complaining started. Dean wasn't sure that he could handle hearing "I'm bored, Dean" or "I wanna go outside, Dean" one more time without losing his mind. He did everything he could to entertain his little brother and to take his mind off the fact that they were stuck inside, but nothing seemed to work. And eventually, he started to go a little stir crazy himself.

They made it through the first day with Dean's sanity barely intact. He had been able to distract Sam with board games, movies, and comic books, much to his relief. After making Sam's favorite dinner of Spaghetti-O's, Dean talked him into taking a bath. He sat next to the tub as Sam played in the water and eventually, Dean helped to make sure that Sam's hair was shampooed and the rest of him was clean. After the bath, they watched a little more television until Sam finally fell asleep, sitting next to Dean on the couch.

Suddenly, Dean wished that his dad would come back. It had seemed exciting to be left on their own, but now he was realizing that it wasn't all that great. Taking care of a four year old was hard. Keeping that four year old entertained inside the small house was harder.

The next morning, Sam started complaining that he was bored the minute he was done with breakfast. Dean's attempts to distract his brother were not working at all and by lunchtime, they were both frustrated. Finally, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He had just finished talking to his father, who had told him that he would be home later that evening, so Dean made a command decision to take Sammy outside. He knew that he would be in big, big trouble if John found out, but he really didn't know what else to do.

Sam was so excited to find out that they were going to go outside. The minute he heard the words come out of his brother's mouth, he started jumping up and down, anxious to get going.

"Where are we going, Dean?" he asked repeatedly. "Can we go to the park? Can we get ice cream?"

When Dean didn't seem to be moving fast enough, Sam started begging him to hurry.

"Come on, Dean! Let's go! Let's go!"

"Calm down, Sammy. You gotta get your shoes on first, dummy."

"Don't call me that, Dean," Sammy pouted. "I'll tell Daddy."

"Shut up, baby!" Dean said, feeling guilty just seconds later when he saw the look on Sam's face.

"I'm not a baby."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. Just put your shoes on, okay?"

"Will you help me tie my shoes, Dean? If I need help?"

"Of course I will, dude. That's what big brothers do."

Dean watched as Sam pulled his shoes on and tried to tie the laces. After watching him struggle for a few minutes, he finally knelt down next to Sam and tied them for him.

"There you go, Sam. Now let's go before I change my mind."

Sam followed Dean as he unlocked the front door and opened it. The sun was shining brightly and they both could hear the sounds of other kids playing at the park that was just a block away. Sam took off running toward the park, but Dean quickly grabbed him by the back of the t-shirt, stopping his forward motion.

"Hold up, dude. You can't run off, okay? You have to stay with me."

Sam slowed down and waited for Dean to lead the way.

"Will you push me on the swings, Dean? And can we do the teeter-totter?"

"We can do whatever you want, Sammy. But, you gotta stay with me, remember? No running off."

"I won't. I promise," Dean answered seriously.

They spent the next hour running from the swings, to the slides, to the jungle gym, to the seesaw, and then back to the swings. Sam met a few kids his age and Dean stood back and watched him play with them for a while. Eventually, those kids left and Sam and Dean were left by themselves for a while. Dean was pushing Sam on the swings again when another group of kids, rowdy and rambunctious, entered the playground. There were four of them and they all looked to be a little older than Dean.

Dean was beginning to feel the need to leave the park when two of the kids made their way over to the swings. Dean eyed them carefully, sizing them up just in case they started something. He was just about to pull Sam off the swing when one of the bigger kids stepped in front of the swing.

"Get off," the kid demanded as he reached out and grabbed the swing, causing Sam to almost fall out of it.

Dean rushed around his brother and stopped in front of him, shoving the kid's arm off of the swing in the process. "Get away from my brother," he snarled.

"Who's gonna make me? You?" the kid laughed.

Dean knew the kid was bigger than him, but he was pretty sure he could take him. After all, he had been sparring with his dad for the last year, learning all kinds of moves and punches. And even if that wasn't true, he wasn't going to let anyone do anything to his brother. He was supposed to watch out for Sammy and he would do whatever it took to protect him.

"If I have to," Dean answered.

The kid turned to his friend and started laughing. Dean watched him closely. In his almost nine years of life, he had dealt with a few schoolyard bullies, so he knew what to expect. Unsurprising to him, the kid stepped forward and shoved him backwards. Dean stumbled, but kept his footing, keeping himself between the big kid and his little brother.

"Get outta here," the kid said as he loomed over Dean.

Dean was just about to grab Sam and leave when the kid shoved him again. Without thinking, Dean surged forward, throwing the full weight of his body at the kid's lower half, knocking him off of his feet. After jumping to his feet, Dean was suddenly hit from behind by the other kid. He landed hard on the ground, his breath driven out of him in a loud oomph, and his head cracking the ground harshly. His eyes filled with tears as he tried to catch his breath. He could hear Sam calling for him, so he tried to climb to his feet. His vision was blurry and his head felt like it was spinning, but he was able to stand his ground just in time to be knocked over again by the second kid.

Hitting his head on the ground for the second time, Dean still didn't hesitate to sweep his legs out, knocking the other kid to the ground. By this time, he could hear Sam crying and he thought he heard other people yelling somewhere off in the distance. Trying to clear his head, Dean rolled over and pushed himself up to his feet, stumbling slightly as he straightened up. He quickly looked around for his brother, relieved to find him standing off to the side of the swing set.

Turning back to the two boys, Dean watched warily as they circled him. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep his eyes on both of them at the same time and one of them was eventually able to get behind him. Dean fought as hard as he could, but one of the boys finally grabbed him by the arms, holding him still while the other one punched him in the stomach.

As the pain engulfed him, Dean started to feel the first twinges of panic fill him. He was beginning to realize that despite his training, he just couldn't handle both of them at the same time. Before either of the boys could do anything else, though, Dean heard a loud voice somewhere off to his left, yelling for them to stop fighting.

Suddenly, the hands that were holding him back released him and he fell to the ground. The two boys immediately took off running towards their other friends, leaving Dean hunched over, clutching his stomach and trying to catch his breath. He couldn't help but flinch when he felt hands on his back.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

Dean looked up to see a young woman standing over him. She was holding a baby in her arms, but her focus was on him. Dean's focus, though, was on his brother.

"Sammy?" he called out as he looked around for his brother. Panic filled him again when he realized that Sam wasn't standing where he had been just a few minutes earlier. "Sammy, where are you?!"

"He's right over there," the lady answered, pointing over to the trash can that was just on the edge of the playground.

"Sammy, come here," Dean called out.

Sam stepped out from behind the trash can and ran over to his brother. "Dean!"

"I'm okay, Sammy," Dean answered as he finally pushed himself to his feet.

"Where are your parents?" the lady asked, obviously concerned that two such young children were alone in the park.

Dean ignored her as he looked over his brother, making sure he was okay.

"I wanna go home, Dean," Sam said quietly, as he subjected himself to Dean's once-over. Once Dean was sure that Sam was okay, he grabbed his hand and started to walk off.

"Wait a minute!" The lady quickly moved to follow them, not wanting to let them out of her sight until she knew they were okay. "Where are your parents? Where do you live?"

Dean tried to ignore her, but she wasn't about to be ignored. Knowing he was backed into a corner, Dean tried desperately to come up with a good story. One that wouldn't lead to her finding out that they were staying alone.

"Our parents are at work right now," he lied. "Our babysitter was supposed to bring us to the park, but she fell asleep. Sammy really wanted to come."

"So you brought him here on your own?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean answered, trying to give her his most innocent look.

"You shouldn't have done that, Dean," she chided. "You're too young to be out here on your own."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean repeated quietly.

"How about if I walk you home, then. Your babysitter is probably freaking out."

"That's okay. We just live right over there," Dean said as he pointed in the general direction of their house.

"I'm not letting you go off by yourself."

Dean knew he didn't have a choice but to let her walk them home, so he just turned and led the way. Once they arrived at the house, he took out his key and unlocked it, shoving Sam through the open door as fast as he could. "I'll get her for you," he said as he squeezed through the door and pulled it shut behind him.

Making as much noise as he could, he knocked on the bathroom door and called out to the non-existent babysitter, telling her that they were home. A few seconds later, he returned to the front door and opened it to find the woman still standing there.

"She wanted me to tell you thank you for walking us home. She's really mad at me for leaving," he said sadly.

"Can I talk to her? I probably should tell her what happened with those boys. In case you need some medicine or something."

"She's uh…. she's with Sammy right now. He's really upset and she's trying to calm him down."

The woman looked around uncertainly, but realized that she didn't have much of a choice but to leave. Unless she wanted to barge into the house and find the babysitter. Resolving herself to letting it all go, she looked back down at Dean.

"Are you sure you're okay? Those boys were quite a bit bigger than you."

"I'm okay," Dean answered. "I can take care of myself."

"Well, that may be true, but maybe next time you don't leave the house without a grown-up, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean answered politely. "Thanks for walking us home."

And with that he closed the door.

* * *

A few hours later, Dean was feeling awful. His stomach was still hurting from the punch that had landed and his head was pounding hard enough to make him feel nauseous. Every time he stood up, his legs felt like jelly and his head spun like crazy. Not to mention the fact that the palms of his hands and his knees were all scratched up from falling to the ground. All in all, he felt horrible.

Sam was still scared by the events and he hadn't left Dean's side for a single second. Even when Dean went to the bathroom, Sam followed him, not even letting him close the door for some privacy. Sam didn't complain at all about being hungry, so Dean completely forgot to make dinner for them.

It was almost nine o'clock that night when John finally came home. He was pleased to find the doors all locked and the salt still where it should be. And it looked like the house was in reasonable condition. Other than the dishes in the sink and a wet towel on the bathroom floor, the house was just as he had left it.

Sam and Dean were both sound asleep when he let himself in the house. John stood over the couch, looking at both of his sons in the faint glow of the light from the television. They were both laid out on the couch, Sam on the inside, Dean on the outside with his arm tucked around his brother. John took a few minutes to clean himself up before heading back to the couch to pick up his youngest son. After taking Sam into the small bedroom the boys shared and tucking him into bed, he went back for Dean. As expected, Dean woke up when John was trying to pick him up.

"Dad? You're home?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked frantically.

"He's upstairs, Dean. Already in bed."

"Okay," Dean said.

John couldn't help but notice the grimace on his son's face. "Dean? What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

"My head hurts, Daddy," Dean said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

John was surprised to hear Dean call him Daddy. It had been a while since the boy had decided that Daddy was too babyish for him. Reaching up, he felt Dean's forehead, looking to see if he had a fever. He was relieved to see that Dean's temperature felt normal.

"When did it start hurting, son?" he asked.

"Just a little bit ago," Dean lied.

John took Dean up to the bedroom and gently tucked him in. "I'll be right back, kiddo. I'm going to get you some Tylenol."

A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and two tablets. "Here you go, sport. Chew these up and then drink some water."

Dean sat up and took the Tylenol, hoping he could keep from throwing them back up. When he was done, he took a few sips of water and laid back down. John tucked the blankets up around his shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'll check on you later, okay? Try to get some sleep."

"Okay. Night, Dad."

John checked on Dean a few times before he himself went to bed. He hated it when his boys were sick, but he wasn't too concerned at the moment. Dean still didn't feel like he was running a fever and he seemed to be sleeping somewhat comfortable. He occasionally heard the boy move restlessly, but Dean never woke up.

* * *

The next morning, John woke up before the boys. Although, he rarely let them sleep in, he decided that he would for once, hoping that the extra sleep would ensure that Dean woke up feeling better. He had just sat down with his second cup of coffee when he heard a soft knock on the door.

Knowing that he wasn't expecting anyone, John opened the door cautiously. He was surprised to see a young woman standing on the step, one hand holding a cup of coffee, the other holding onto a stroller with a baby in it.

"Good morning," he said, observing the woman closely.

"Hi," she answered. "My name is Julia Kerris."

"John Winchester. What can I do for you, Mrs. Kerris?"

"Oh, well I just wanted to check on Sam and Dean. Make sure they were okay after what happened yesterday."

John straightened up and stared at the woman. "What happened yesterday?" he asked darkly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought the babysitter would have filled you in on it all."

"Babysitter?"

"Yes. I didn't actually get to talk to her because she was trying to calm Sam down. I'm sorry. I really thought she'd tell you."

"Maybe you could tell me what happened, since she neglected to," John said, trying to carry the story along. "I'll have to have a talk with her about keeping things from me."

"Well, she probably thought she'd get in trouble if you found out she fell asleep while she was supposed to be watching your children."

"Probably."

John listened as the young woman proceeded to tell him what she had walked up on in the park. By the time she was done, the worry and anger he felt was warring for dominance within him. After a few more minutes of talking with Julia, he thanked her for her concern for his boys and watched as she walked away. Stepping back into his house, he sat down at the table, wondering just how he was going to deal with his boys' most recent shenanigans.

* * *

Dean woke up to find that his head was still hurting, but not as badly as the night before. Sam was still sleeping next to him, so he tried to climb out of the bed without waking him. Once he was out of the bed, he made his way to the bathroom, taking care of his business before heading off to find his father. He walked into the small kitchen to find John sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Dad," he said.

"Dean."

Dean looked at his dad, trying to figure out what kind of mood the man was in. He hadn't even had the chance to ask him last night how the hunt went, but judging by the man's current mood, it obviously hadn't gone well.

John watched as Dean reached up to grab a glass off the drain board, before moving over to the refrigerator. After he filled his glass with orange juice, he sat down at the table, across from his dad.

"How did the hunt go, Dad? Did you finish it?"

"Yeah," John answered. "This world has one less wendigo walking around."

"What's a wendigo?" Dean asked curiously.

"That's a conversation for another day, Dean. When you're a bit older."

"But, Dad…."

"Not today, Dean."

John took another drink of his coffee before turning back to his son. "How's your head?"

"Still hurts a little," Dean admitted.

John stood up and moved over to Dean. He leaned over and gently grabbed Dean's chin, tilting his face up towards him. After checking his pupils and finding them normal, he let go of Dean's chin and moved back to his seat. "Are you feeling dizzy or sick to your stomach?"

"A little."

"Is your vision okay? Is it blurry or are you seeing double?"

"No, sir," Dean answered, wondering why his dad was asking him all of these questions.

John looked satisfied with Dean's answers for the moment.

"So, what did you and Sam do while I was gone?"

"Nothing much. We played a bunch of games and watched some movies. I made sure Sam took a bath, too."

"What did you eat?"

"Um, we had Spaghetti-O's for dinner and then cereal and toast for breakfast. Yesterday, Sam wanted peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch." Dean stopped talking as he suddenly realized that he never made any dinner for Sam the night before.

"What about last night?" John asked.

"Um, uh…. we just ate snacks, I guess."

"You guess…"

"Yeah. Sammy wasn't really all that hungry, Dad."

"So, what did you do yesterday afternoon, Dean?"

Suddenly, Dean knew that his dad knew what had happened. He had no idea how the man knew, but he did. _John Winchester always knew everything._

"Dad…."

"What did you do yesterday, Dean?" John repeated.

"We went to the park," Dean finally admitted.

"You went to the park…."

"Yes, sir."

"Were you allowed to go to the park, Dean?"

"No, sir," Dean replied miserably.

"What happened while you were at the park?"

Dean didn't hesitate to explain what had happened, knowing that his dad somehow already knew.

"Let me get this straight. You left the house when you knew you weren't supposed to. You went to the park, knowing that you're not allowed to go there by yourself. You got into a fight with two boys that were bigger than you. And you led some stranger straight to our doorstep. Sound about right?"

"They weren't that much bigger than me, Dad."

"Damn it, Dean! What were you thinking?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? To your brother?"

Dean couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. His head was pounding terribly and his stomach was suddenly twisting and churning. "I'm sorry, Dad."

Before John could say anything else, Dean stood up and ran to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before losing all the contents of his stomach. John stepped up behind him, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with cold water before placing it on the back of Dean's neck. Once Dean was through, John helped him back into his bedroom.

"I want you to lay down and rest, Dean, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean tried again.

"Get some rest," John lightly commanded. "We'll talk about this later when you're feeling better."

Dean closed his eyes, hoping that it would stop the room from spinning like it was. He could feel John's hand against his forehead again and felt himself sink into the bed as his body gave into his weariness. He knew he'd have to face up to his mistakes eventually, but for now he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

John nervously watched over his oldest son for the next several days. He had had enough concussions in his life to recognize the signs in Dean. Headache, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fatigue, lack of appetite. After hearing Julia's account of what she had seen, of Dean being thrown to the ground so hard that his head slammed against it, he knew that Dean had a concussion. Luckily, he knew how to treat it and what complications to look for.

By the end of the week, Dean was back to normal, although he _was_ quieter than normal. John knew that it was because the boy knew that it was time to own up to his mistakes and take his punishment like the Winchester he was.

John set Sam up in front of the television, making sure he found something that the four year old would be interested in. He also made sure that the boy had some snacks and something to drink.

Once Sam was all set up, he motioned for Dean to follow him into his bedroom. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at his hands instead of up at the man that was pacing in front of him. Eventually, John stopped pacing and sat down in his desk chair.

"Dean, I need you to tell me why you disobeyed me."

Dean tried to find the words, but they wouldn't seem to come to him.

"When I left I told you to stay inside, right? Lock the doors and windows? Lay the salt lines?"

"Yes, sir."

"What part of that didn't you understand?"

"I understood it, Dad."

"Did you? Because it's not like you to disobey me like that."

"We were bored, Dad," Dean said. "Sammy was whining and he was driving me crazy. He wanted to go outside, so I told him we could go to the park. We were only going to go for a little bit."

"You were bored?' John growled. "You disobeyed me because you were bored?"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it, Dean! I left you here because I thought you were responsible enough to handle it. To do what you were told. Obviously, I was wrong."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Sorry doesn't cut it this time, Dean. You put yourself and your brother in danger and I won't tolerate that."

"I know."

"Well, then…. I think you know what happens next, right?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he stood up and walked over to his father. Seconds later, he felt the man pick him up and place him over his knee. Dean grabbed his dad's pant leg and studied the floor in front of him, hating the fact that he had put himself in this position.

"You have to learn to listen, Dean. To obey my orders."

"I will, Dad," Dean answered before closing his eyes tightly and waiting for the first smack to fall.

 _***End Flashback***_

After remembering that incident, Dean was pretty sure that he was suffering from a concussion. The good thing was that it seemed like maybe he was getting a little better. The bad thing was that he remembered that it almost took five days for him to recover the last time. And that was with his dad taking care of him. Now, he was on his own, having to take care of himself, as well as his brother. With that thought fresh in his mind, he couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes and fell down his face.

Just when he thought he couldn't contain the sobs that were building in his chest, Sam started to stir. Dean quickly took in a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself enough so that he wouldn't scare his little brother. Looking down into Sam's big eyes, Dean tried to smile.

"Hey, Sammy. How'd you sleep?"

Sam yawned before answering. "I dreamed about kangaroos, Dean," he said with a smile.

"Lucky you! My dreams were all about floppy worms and spiders," Dean answered, knowing that Sam was aware of how much he hated both.

"Are you feeling better?" Sam asked.

"A little. How about you?"

"I'm hungry," Sam answered.

Dean figured that it had been almost two full days since they had been taken and in that time, the man hadn't given them anything to eat at all. As he was pondering what to do about that, the door opened at the top of the stairs and the man started down them. Dean was relieved to see that he had something in his hands and was praying that it was food.

The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs and held out the two bags. Dean jumped off the bed and made his way over to the man, taking the bags as quickly as he could before backing back to the bed.

"Eat," the man said. Without another word, he turned and walked back up the stairs.

Dean looked into the bag and was relieved to see that it was all pre-packaged food. He unwrapped a breakfast sandwich that he knew Sam would like and handed it to his brother. He also pulled out a bottle of apple juice and opened it for Sam. Once Sam was settled on the bed and digging into his food, Dean sat down next to him.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Nah. I'm really not hungry right now. I'll eat something later."

"Okay."

Dean watched as Sam devoured his sandwich. He was happy to see that his brother's appetite had returned and happy that the man wasn't going to starve them. He was also happy to know that his dad and Uncle Bobby were undoubtedly doing everything they could to find them. Maybe things were finally looking up for them.

* * *

Author's note: I know there's not a lot of progress made in this chapter, but I thought you all wouldn't mind a little flashback scene. I promise the next chapter will move the story along a little more.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	13. Plans, Plans, Plans

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 13

Plans, Plans, Plans

* * *

Dean really wasn't sure how long they had been down in the basement since he really had no way of telling time. It could have been days, weeks, or even just a few hours, for all he knew. Time had a way of both speeding up and slowing down, it seemed. He really couldn't say that he was feeling better yet, so that made him think that it had only been a day or two.

Sam was getting a little restless, like any seven year old would be if he were trapped in a windowless basement with nothing to do. Dean tried his best to keep his little brother distracted and occupied, but there were only so many times you could play I Spy or Hide and Seek in such a small place. Luckily, Sammy was the kind of kid that was perfectly content to sit and listen to Dean tell stories. The unfortunate part, though, was that Dean's head and arm were hurting so much he was finding it hard to concentrate.

"Dean, you already told me that story, remember? I wanna hear something new."

"Sorry, Sammy. I'll start over."

Dean was in the middle of a story about a pig who wanted to play football when the door to the basement opened. Dean immediately stood up and moved to the foot of the bed, keeping Sam behind him. He watched warily as the shapeshifter slowly walked down the stairs, his hands holding two bags of food again.

Eyeing the bag of food that was still sitting on the small table, the man suddenly got angry.

"Why aren't you eating the food I brought you?" he asked.

Dean just stared at the man, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing that he probably had a concussion.

"I asked you a question, boy!"

"We ate some of it," Dean finally answered.

"Well, don't be wasteful. If I bring you food, I expect you to eat it."

"What does it matter to you if we eat or not."

"We can't have your dad thinking I didn't take care of you, can we?" the man laughed. "I don't think John Winchester would appreciate that at all."

Dean was completely confused by the man standing in front of him. He knew that the man wanted revenge on his dad for killing his family, so it didn't make sense that he would be worried about whether or not they ate. He figured the man was planning on killing them, or at the least hurting them a lot, so why did it matter that they weren't eating.

"The next time I come down here, this food better be gone,' the man said as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Dean quickly stepped forward. "Wait. What day is it? How long have we been here?"

"What does it matter?" the man said. He looked annoyed at the question. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

Dean glared at the man, wishing that he could kick him really, really hard in a place that would really, really hurt. "What does it matter if we know what day it is?" he threw back at the man.

"You're a real smartass, kid. I don't like it. And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll let us go," Dean answered. "My dad is gonna find us and he's gonna make you pay for what you've done. Just like he made your family pay."

Dean was taken by surprise when the man marched forward and slapped him across the face again. Sam yelped at the sound of the slap and immediately jumped up towards his brother.

"Dean!"

"Stay back!" the man yelled, but Sam didn't listen.

Before Dean could stop him, Sam had moved around him and was kicking the man as hard as he could. Dean watched in horror as the man backhanded Sam, too, knocking the little boy down to the floor. The cry that came out of Sam's mouth had Dean seeing red and without thinking he dove forward, throwing his full weight against the man and toppling him to the ground. Before the man could even comprehend what was happening, Dean was pummeling him with his fists, landing punches wherever he could, not caring if he was fighting dirty.

It didn't take long, though, for the man to regain both his senses and the upper hand. Dean felt the man grabbing his arms and before he could do anything, both arms were being wrenched behind his back. The pain he felt in his left arm spiked to an almost unbearable level, causing his vision to darken and bile to rise in his throat. His eyes filled with tears at the colossal pain he was immersed in at the moment. He tried desperately to move his arms, hoping to get some relief from the pain, but the man was holding onto him too tightly.

"Let go! Please!" Dean cried.

Sam was still on the floor, holding both hands to his left cheek as tears ran down his face. Dean knew how scared his brother was, mostly because he himself was just as scared. But, he didn't know what to do. Not for the first time, he wished that he could learn to keep his mouth shut _. How many times had he had that conversation with his dad?_ He could practically hear his dad's voice, lecturing him again and again on learning to hold his tongue.

The man still held both of Dean's arms behind his back. "If you ever do that again, boy, I'll beat you until you're black and blue. You got that? You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

"Same goes for your brother, so you better make sure he understands."

Without another word, the man let go of Dean and made his way up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind him. Dean made his way over to where Sam was and helped his brother up onto the bed. Both of his arms were hurting him, especially the left one, but all he cared about was Sam."

"Are you okay, Sammy? Let me look at your face."

Dean pried Sam's hands away from his face, not surprised to see the beginning stages of a bruise starting to form already. After helping Sam to get up off the floor and back onto the bed, he moved over to the grocery bags, hoping that there was something cold inside. He sighed in relief when he saw four bottles of water that were all fairly cold. Grabbing one out of the bag, he moved back over to Sam and climbed up on the bed next to him.

"Here you go, Sammy. Hold this up to your cheek, okay? It'll make you feel better."

Sam took the bottle from Dean and gently put it up to his cheek. "It really hurts, Dean," he said sadly.

"I know, Sammy. I'm sorry."

Sam looked up at Dean in confusion. "Why are you sorry? It's not _your_ fault."

"Yeah, it is," Dean admitted. "I shoulda kept my mouth shut. Dad's always telling me that, but I never listen."

Sam snuggled up against his brother. "That's okay, Dean."

"No, it's not. If I had kept my mouth shut, he would have just left. He wouldn't have hit you, Sammy." After a long pause, Dean looked at his brother.

"Sam, listen to me, okay?" Once he knew he had Sam's attention, he continued. "The next time he comes down here, I want you to go to the bathroom, okay? I don't want you to be anywhere near him, Sammy. And no matter what he does to me, I want you to stay as far away from him as you can."

"What if he's hurting you?" Sam asked.

"I can take care of myself, Sammy. But, not if I'm worrying about you."

Sam started to argue, but Dean cut him off. "You have to do what I say, Sammy, remember? Dad said that I was in charge whenever he's not around and that you had to obey me like you do him."

"That's not fair," Sam pouted. "Why do I have to obey him and you, but you only have to obey him."

"Hey, I have to obey Uncle Bobby, too. And Pastor Jim and sometimes even Caleb," Dean argued.

"Yeah, but I have to obey all of them _and_ you! It's not fair."

"Sammy, please. Just listen to me, okay? And when we get out of here, I won't make you obey for two whole days. How does that sound?"

Sam looked like he was contemplating his brother's words. "Okay, Dean."

"Okay. Thanks, Sammy. Now, what do you wanna do?"

"Can we play I Spy again?"

Dean sat back against the head of the bed, wishing that he could just go back to sleep. Unfortunately, Sam had other ideas and there was no way Dean was going to deprive him of another I Spy game. Settling in as comfortably as he could, Dean looked down at Sam. "Okay, buddy…. I Spy something green…."

* * *

Bobby and John had been at it for hours and they both were exhausted. The boys had been missing for two and half days, so both men were at their wit's end. They had been methodically checking out the various properties on the stretch of road they had narrowed it down to, but it was slow going. To the surprise of both of them, there were a lot of vacant properties in the area, so they had numerous barns and houses to check. John wanted to split up, but Bobby thought it best to stick together, so as to be able to provide back-up for each other. Plus, he really didn't trust that the shapeshifter wouldn't come back and pretend to be John again.

When it turned dark on the third night, Bobby suggested that they return to the salvage yard and get some rest.

"Not yet," John argued. "Let's check out one more house, Bobby."

"John, it's dark. If we search now, we might overlook something important. We need fresh eyes and natural sunlight for this."

"Bobby…"

"Winchester, we'll get back to it at sunrise, okay? We're not going to do those boys any good if we're exhausted."

John reluctantly agreed, so they headed back to Bobby's house. John stared out the window along the way, his emotions completely bared for the older hunter to see.

"They'll be okay, John. You've been training Dean since he was four years old, remember? He'll look out for himself and his little brother."

"I know he will," John admitted.

Silence settled over the cab of the truck they were in as Bobby drove and John continued to stare out the window. Eventually, John broke the silence.

"You want to know what I'm worried about? I'm worried that Dean will say something to set the man off. I've had so many talks with that kid about learning to keep his mouth shut in situations where it was sure to get him in trouble, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet. What if he's smarting off to the man? What if the man gets mad enough to do something stupid? What if he hurts them?"

"John, we can "what if" this thing to death, but it won't do us any good. We need to focus on one thing at a time, so that means that right now we focus on getting some rest so that we can focus on our search tomorrow."

Once they were back at Bobby's, John reluctantly went to bed. He didn't think he would be able to sleep, but he must have been more exhausted than he thought. Within two minutes of closing his eyes, he was sound asleep. Fortunately for him, his dreams were of better days.

* * *

Sam was sound asleep again, giving Dean time to think about everything. He went over all of the things he had ever been taught by his father, hoping that something would trigger an idea of what he should be doing. He knew that, first and foremost, he had to watch out for Sammy. Nothing was more important than that. _Nothing._

But trying to figure out what his dad would want him to do in this situation was nearly impossible. He knew that John would want him to be smart. He would want him to rest and eat, to keep his strength up, to make sure that Sam was doing the same. _But, would he want them to try to escape? Or would he rather they just sit tight and wait to be rescued?_

He had been thinking so hard and for so long that his head was starting to hurt even more. He had almost forgotten that his head was hurting because his arm was hurting so much more. He hadn't admitted it yet, but he thought that it might even be broken. His fingers felt all tingly and his elbow was almost twice its normal size.

He still wasn't feeling hungry, but sticking to his edict of keeping his strength up, he had forced himself to eat something. With his head pounding, his arm throbbing, and his stomach rebelling at the store-bought breakfast sandwich he had forced down, he was feeling particularly awful.

But, not having anything else to do, he finally came up with a plan.

Sam woke up sometime later to find Dean sound asleep next to him. He stayed as still as he could for as long as he could, knowing that Dean, who was usually a light sleeper, would wake up if he moved. Looking closely at his brother, Sam was sad to see that he still looked sick. Even in his sleep, Dean's face was scrunched up in pain. His face was pale and there was still a fine sheen of sweat covering his body.

Before too long, Sam realized that he needed to use the bathroom. Not having a choice, he rolled over as gently as he could and stepped down from bed.

"Sammy?" Dean asked sleepily. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just have to go to the bathroom," Sam answered.

When he was done, he went back over to the bed and climbed up next to Dean, who was now sitting up against the headboard.

"Are you hungry?" Dean asked.

"Not really."

Dean wanted to push the subject a little more, knowing that Sam needed to eat, but he had other plans.

"Sam? I wanna talk to you about something, okay? Remember what Dad always says about making sure you have a plan? I think we need to have a plan now."

"A plan for what?"

"Well, a plan for just in case," Dean answered nervously.

"Just in case what, Dean? In case there's a tornado? Miss Whitley says that basements are a good place to go during a tornado. And we're already in a basement."

"I don't mean a tornado, Sammy. Listen, I know Dad and Uncle Bobby are looking for us, but maybe we need a plan for if they don't find us."

"Dad will find us, Dean. He's Dad."

"I know, but just in case. I'm tired of being locked up, aren't you? I was thinking that if we got a chance, maybe we could try to get out of here."

Sam still didn't look convinced, but Dean continued anyway.

"Sam, if we do this, you have to do exactly what I say, okay? Exactly! And you have to do it right away. No hesitation."

"What does that mean? Hes, uh….hesitation?"

"That means you can't wait. If I tell you to do it, you have to do it right then. No waiting. No questions, just do it. Do you think you can do that?"

"Of course, I can. I'm seven."

"Okay. Then we need a signal."

"What kind of signal?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Like a word or maybe I can do something with my hand."

"Can I pick the word? Can I?" Sam asked excitedly.

"Sure," Dean answered. "But make it something you won't forget. And it can't be something that I might say accidentally."

Dean almost laughed at the way Sam's forehead and nose crinkled up with his thinking.

"How about Scrumdiddlyumptious?" Sam asked eagerly.

Dean recognized the word from Sam's repeated reading and watching of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. "Sam, I can't be expected to remember that stupid word! It's too big. What about fart-knuckle?" Dean suggested.

"Fart-knuckle?! That's dumb!"

"Okay, how about nutcracker? Or amscray?"

"Dean, you said I could pick! And amscray isn't even a word!"

"Yeah, it is," Dean laughed. "It's Pig Latin for scram."

"Miss Whitley says that Pig Latin isn't a real language, Dean."

"Who cares?! It's still fun."

"I get to pick and I choose oompa loompa." Sam gave Dean a look that clearly stated he was done. And Dean figured that as far as signal words went, oompa loompa wasn't all that bad. Plus, it wasn't like he would say oompa loompa accidentally.

"Okay, Sammy….oompa loompa, it is. So, here's the plan, okay? If he comes down the stairs and I think the time is right, I'll say oompa loompa and you'll run up the stairs, out the door, and out of the house. I'll be right behind you, but don't wait for me, okay? Just run as fast as you can. When you get out of the house, you follow the trail we walked in on. Do you remember the trail?"

"Yeah," Sam answered quietly. "It was scary."

"It's not that scary, Sam. And it's better than staying here with the crazy man, isn't it? Anyway, once you get on the trail, just keep walking. It'll take you to the road. Don't get off the trail, Sam, okay?"

"Where are you going to be?" Sam asked fearfully.

"Like I said, I'll be right behind you.

* * *

Author's note: I'm just curious….How many of you think Sam and Dean should just sit tight and wait for John and Bobby? How many think it's a good idea for them to escape if they get the chance?

Thanks for reading, everyone. I hope you enjoy this chapter.


	14. Always a Winchester

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 14

Always a Winchester

* * *

For the first time since this whole mess started, John felt the smallest glimmer of true hope. He had just gotten off the phone with Missouri Mosely, who had apparently had a vision of his boys. This vision allowed her to tell him a little bit about the place they were being held, so now armed with the new information, Bobby and John were hitting the road.

John was in the process of telling Bobby everything that Missouri told him, trying to keep his emotions in check as he passed along her words. "She said there's a small cabin sitting far off the east side of the road. The long driveway is gravel and is surrounded by trees on both sides."

"Did she say anything about the boys?" Bobby asked, dreading the answer.

John's voice quieted and he stared out the window for several seconds before answering. "She said they're both as good as can be expected and that Dean is doing his best to take care of Sam."

"Well, of course he is. He's always looking out for his little brother."

"Bobby, she couldn't tell me why, but she said that we needed to find them soon. Said that something bad was going to happen if we didn't."

"We'll find 'em, John."

"I can't lose my boys, Bobby," John said pitifully. "They're all I have left."

"We'll find 'em," Bobby repeated.

* * *

The man had come down into the basement two more times since Dean had talked to Sam about escaping. Both times, Sam jumped up from the bed and ran over to the curtained off bathroom, just like Dean told him to. Both times, the man looked around for the younger boy, but then turned his focus onto Dean.

Dean, for the most part, tried to keep his head down, not wanting to make the man angry. Of course, that only worked the first time. The second time the man showed up, Dean said something to make him mad enough to slap him again. This slap left Dean with his ears ringing and his eyes tearing as he picked himself up off the floor. It also left him wondering why he couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut and his comments to himself.

"I've had enough of you, boy. The next time I won't be so easy on you."

Dean nearly laughed at the idea of the man thinking he was taking it easy on him. In the time they had been down in the basement, Dean had been slapped around multiple times and he was pretty sure the man hadn't been taking it easy. He certainly didn't want to find out, though.

Once the man left, after threatening Dean with much worse than what he'd already been given, Sam ran out from the bathroom. "Are you okay, Dean? Did he hurt you again?"

"I'm fine, Sammy. He can't hurt me."

Sam noticed the bright red handprint on the side of his brother's face and immediately started crying. "Dean, I wanna go home."

Dean felt a flash of annoyance shoot through him at Sam's words. _Didn't Sam think he wanted to go home, too?_ He quickly forgot his annoyance, though, when he saw the concerned look on the kid's face.

"We're getting out of here, Sam. The next time he opens the door, we're leaving."

Dean sat Sam down on the bed and talked him through his plan. He had no idea if it would work, but he really didn't feel like sitting around waiting for rescue anymore. _It was time he took matters into his own hands._

* * *

John's hope had been fading rather fast when they got to the end of their search sector without results. He knew if they had to expand their search further down the highway, they would be adding days onto the search.

"Maybe we missed it," Bobby offered. "The trees on this part of the highway are awfully dense. Maybe the driveway is tucked in between some trees, making it hard to find. "

John wanted to believe that was what the problem was, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"Come on, John. Let's turn around and look one more time before we expand our search. That kid was pretty sure that he never saw that van past his own driveway."

Bobby turned his truck around and headed back the way they had come, driving even slower than before. Each miniscule opening in the trees brought the truck to an almost complete stop, causing cars on the road to honk angrily at them before speeding by.

They had driven almost two miles when John suddenly yelled for Bobby to stop.

* * *

Dean grew tired of waiting for the man to return, so he decided to do something to bring him downstairs. Finding a broom in the corner of the basement, he picked it up and started ramming it against the ceiling as hard as he could. He had no idea where in the house the man was, so he moved around the basement, knocking the handle up into different parts of the ceiling.

Sam was already in place, hiding behind a pile of boxes in the corner of the basement closest to the stairs. Dean's plan was to distract the man long enough for Sam to get up the stairs and through the door. Then he would make his own move.

Dean knew the odds were stacked against him. The man was much bigger than he was and probably much smarter, too. The only thing Dean had going for him was his speed and agility and the element of surprise. Nevertheless, he made sure to say a little prayer before starting his attack on the ceiling.

It only took a few moments for the man to open the door and thunder down the stairs. Once he was on the basement floor, yelling "What the hell are you up to?" at the top of his voice, Dean was hiding in the opposite corner from Sam. He knew that his hiding place was obvious and that it would only take the man a few seconds to see him, but he was hoping that the man was angry enough to focus on him and forget about Sam.

Dean was surprised when it worked.

The man strode forward the minute he saw Dean's shadow from the lamp on the wall behind him. Dean allowed the man to get within striking distance before he made his move. Lunging forward, he loudly yelled "oompa loompa" and watched as Sam darted out from behind the stack of boxes and up the stairs. The man was so surprised by the yelling, attacking boy that he didn't even notice Sam leaving.

* * *

Sam ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, not looking back until he was through the basement door and standing in the small kitchen. He wanted so badly to wait for Dean to join him, but he knew that he needed to get out of the house. He was happy to see that it was still daylight outside. He wasn't really afraid of the dark, but walking around in dark woods was a completely different story.

Once he was out of the house, he quickly found the trail they had walked down to get to the cabin. Once on the trail, everything got a little darker, thanks to the thick canopy of trees overhead. Sam couldn't help that he was scared, but he tried as hard as he could to be brave. He wished that Dean was with him and his eyes filled with tears at the thought of what might be happening to his brother at that very moment. _Dean had said he would be right behind him, but he wasn't._

Sam continued forward, walking for what seemed like an eternity to his small body. At one point, he thought he heard something following him, but every time he looked back, he didn't see anything. Eventually, he came up on the gray van and he was hoping that the road wasn't too far away. He had been scared and upset when they made their way down the driveway the first time, not paying attention to anything other than his brother, so he had no idea how long it was. He just kept on walking.

Bobby turned onto the gravel drive that was barely visible from the road. John had a good feeling about this, knowing somewhere deep inside him that this road would lead him to his boys. The daylight was dwindling fast and the thick canopy of trees overhead made it even that much darker, but John really didn't even notice. He watched intently ahead of him as Bobby made his way down the long drive.

Just as they turned a small bend in the road, John yelled out, causing Bobby to slam on the brakes. Standing right in front of them, eyes as big as baseballs, stood Sam. The truck had barely come to a complete stop when John jumped out of the truck, calling for his youngest son.

"Sammy!" he yelled as he ran forward.

"Daddy!" Sam cried.

It only took a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity before John had Sam in his arms. He clutched the small body to his chest so tightly that Sam was finding it hard to breathe.

"Sammy, where's your brother?! Where's Dean?"

"I don't know," Sam cried. "He said he would be right behind me, but he wasn't."

John looked frantically down the driveway, searching for his son.

"Where did you come from?" he asked desperately.

"Down there," Sam said as he pointed down the driveway. "The man's house is there."

"Is he still there? The man?"

"Yes, sir," Sam sobbed. "Dean was fighting with him when I left."

John's face paled at his son's words.

"Bobby! Take Sam. I'm going after Dean."

Without a word, Bobby grabbed Sam from John and watched as his friend took off down the driveway.

"Let's go, kid," Bobby said as he walked back towards the truck. Sam buried his face in Bobby's chest and continued to cry.

* * *

Dean threw his full body weight at the man, hoping to knock him off balance, but he couldn't. Instead, the man recovered quickly and grabbed Dean, pushing him into the wall behind him. Dean's breath came out in a loud _whoosh_ and his head banged hard against the wall. One of the man's hands found its way to his neck and Dean suddenly found himself unable to breathe.

Panic filled him for several long seconds as his eyes watered and his lungs began to burn. He had never been so scared in his life and it really, really made him mad. Letting his fear, anger, and desperate will to survive fuel him, Dean started to remember his training. All those days of sparring and wrestling with his dad suddenly came to the forefront of his mind and he started to move without thinking. Bringing his arms up between the man's arms, he tried to push them away. Unfortunately, the man was too strong for him and he couldn't budge him.

When that didn't work, Dean brought his hands up to the man's face, aiming his fingers at his eyes. Instead, he managed to hook one of the man's nostrils with his thumb and he ripped at it desperately. The man cried out in pain and tightened his grasp on Dean's neck. Just as everything around him was starting to go black, Dean did the last thing he could think of. Bringing his left knee up as hard as he could, he managed to knee the man painfully in the groin.

To his surprise, the man suddenly let go of him as he keeled over in pain. Dean hesitated for only a split second before climbing to his feet. He gasped for air as he clumsily made his way over to the stairs and began climbing. His head was spinning to the point where he thought he might black out, but he continued up the stairs. He could hear the man struggling to move behind him, so he wasn't surprised when he felt a hand grab his leg. Kicking out with all his might, Dean felt his foot land against something solid and hoped it was the man's face.

Fortunately, whatever it was, the man let go of his foot and Dean could hear him falling back down the stairs. Not wasting a single second of time, Dean scrambled back to his feet and continued up the stairs. Once he was through the basement door, Dean wasted no time in looking for a weapon. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the man made it out of the basement and he knew he could never outrun him. Thinking back on what his dad and Uncle Bobby had taught him, he knew that if there was no way to escape, you had to prepare yourself to stand and fight.

Pulling open several kitchen drawers, he searched frantically for a knife. Preferably a silver knife, but he would settle for anything. After opening the third drawer, he finally found a pair of kitchen scissors, and figured that was better than nothing. He also found a heavy duty, long-handled flashlight and picked that up as well. Holding both of those in his hands, he made his way over to the door, noticing that it was wide open. He hoped that meant that Sam had made his way out the door and was now on his way down the long driveway. _Please, God… please let Sammy be okay._

Dean had just stepped onto the porch when he was suddenly hit from behind, the impact knocking him down to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on to the flashlight, but he had been holding the scissors in his left hand and the jarring of his injured arm caused him to drop it to the ground. He didn't have enough time to look for it, because the man immediately started dragging him back into the house.

Dean's eyes filled with tears at the pain that was coursing through his body. He felt like giving up, like curling up into a ball and letting the man do whatever he needed to do, but he really didn't have it in him to give up. He knew the odds were against him, but he wouldn't _ever_ give in to the despair he was feeling. _He had to fight. For Sammy._

With that thought rushing through his mind, he returned to fighting with everything he had in him, ignoring the pain as much as he could. He kicked out with both legs, he swung the flashlight in every direction, he screamed, he spat, he gouged with his fingers. He was like a whirling dervish, turning and twisting his body in every direction, hoping to break free from the crazy man that was holding him.

Dean could hear grunts escaping the man whenever he was able to actually land a good kick or punch, but it never seemed to be enough to knock himself loose from the man's grasp. But he didn't give up. He was sweating like crazy and every fiber of his being felt like it was on fire, but he continued to fight. He never wanted anyone to say that Dean Winchester didn't fight until the very end. If he was going to die, he was going to do it on his own terms. If he was going to die, he was going to die a Winchester… brave and strong to the very end.

Luckily, the end wasn't coming today. Somehow, Dean pulled himself away from the man and was able to make his way back out the door. Once back out on the porch, Dean noticed two things at once- first, his dad was running up the path towards the house, yelling out for him, gun pointed in his direction. Second, the scissors were right in front of him and the man was quickly moving towards him.

Dean bent down and grabbed the scissors, turning just in time to thrust them forward into the chest of the man who had kidnapped them. He knew the scissors weren't made of silver, but he hoped they would at least slow the man down enough for his dad to get there. He watched as the man faltered, grabbing at the scissors that were now protruding from his chest. He watched as the man grabbed the scissors and pulled them out of his chest as if it were just a loose thread being pulled from his shirt. And finally, he watched as the man took the scissors and thrust them right back at him. Dean tried to move out of the way, but he just wasn't fast enough. The scissors embedded deep into his left thigh, causing Dean to cry out in pain. He could feel the warmth of his own blood pouring out of the wound, soaking his jeans in just a matter of seconds. He could feel the light-headedness that overwhelmed him as he tried to get his breathing under control. He could feel a burning start somewhere deep inside him as his body began to go into shock. And then he couldn't feel anything as the darkness finally claimed him.

* * *

Author's note: Please don't hate me for leaving you hanging off of a tiny little cliff. I promise I'll update soon. In the meantime, I'd really love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. I'm not too sure how well the action scenes move from my head onto the page, so I hope you all didn't have a hard time following the action.

Thanks so much to you all for sticking with me on this story. You guys are awesome. And for those of you reading my other story, Meet Me on the Battlefield, I should have another chapter up soon.


	15. Breathe

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 15

Breathe

* * *

John was running as fast as he could, but he wasn't fast enough to stop the scissors from sinking into Dean's leg. He watched in horror as the shapeshifter pulled the scissors out and prepared to plunge them back into his son's body. Everything seemed to be both moving in slow motion and moving at the speed of light. As he ran forward, he brought the gun in his hand up, aiming it at the man who still wasn't aware that someone was charging at him.

Just as the man was bringing the scissors back down, John's finger squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet directly into the man's chest. He watched as the man stumbled forward, his shirt blossoming in red as the blood quickly spread everywhere. Before the man could even hit the ground, John pulled the trigger again, this time hitting him in the neck.

Without another thought to the man's situation, John ran up onto the porch and kneeled down by his son. The first thing he was aware of was the amount of blood that was seeping into the wood of the small porch. _There was just so much blood!_

The next thing he noticed was how small his son looked. And how pale. Dean's freckles were standing out brashly on his small face. His lips were an odd purplish color and his face was covered in several bruises. John wanted desperately to turn and empty his gun into the monster that had done this to his son, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Dean. He was afraid that if he looked away for even a single second he might disappear right before his eyes. But he was also afraid that if he looked at Dean he might see the life leave his son's body.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm here, kiddo. I'm right here," John said quietly as he fought against the panic rising within him. Not knowing what else to do, he removed his jacket and laid it over Dean's chest. Then, he took off his flannel shirt and wrapped it tightly around Dean's thigh, trying to stem the flow of blood as much as he could. Still holding pressure on the wound, John reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, cursing when he realized that he wasn't getting a signal.

Knowing that he needed to get Dean to a hospital, John quickly stepped over to the shapeshifter and checked for a pulse. He needed to know that the monster was dead, that he wouldn't be able to hurt his boys again. He let out a deep sigh when he wasn't able to find a pulse. _The monster was dead._

Finding satisfaction in knowing that the man was dead, John gently scooped Dean up into his arms, ensuring that he didn't jostle his injured leg too much. He searched Dean's face for any response, but he was still unconscious. John knew he should be thankful that his son wasn't awake to feel the pain of the wound on his leg, but he would give anything to see Dean's beautiful green eyes again. _He needed to see them._

Making his way back down the long trail that led to the driveway, John started praying frantically. _He couldn't lose Dean. He couldn't lose his son._

* * *

Bobby was still holding Sam tightly in his arms. He could feel the small body trembling and his tears were soaking through the shoulder of his shirt. Sam was holding onto him as if he wouldn't ever let go and Bobby didn't mind. He could feel the frantic beat of the boy's heart, pounding fast and hard.

"It's okay, kid," Bobby said, trying to soothe the child. "It's okay. You're safe."

"I want Dean," Sam cried out. Bobby could feel his heart breaking at the desperation in the kid's voice.

"You're daddy's getting him, Sam."

Bobby wished that he could be there to help John with whatever he was facing, but he knew he couldn't leave Sam alone. _The kid needed him._ And John was more than capable of taking care of one lone shapeshifter, especially one that had taken his boys. That had hurt them. Bobby had no doubt that John would make sure the monster would never hurt them again.

John would do what he had to do. And he would bring Dean back to them. Bobby just hoped that Dean was okay.

* * *

John felt like he had been walking forever when he finally came to the bend in the road where they had found Sam. Picking up his speed, he exhaled in relief when he finally saw Bobby's truck just ahead. Bobby had been keeping his eye on the path in front of him, so the second John turned the corner, he was out of the truck and moving forward towards the man. He immediately noticed the way John was clutching Dean's body to his own. Dean's extremely lifeless body.

"John? Is he….."

"He's alive, Bobby," John answered. "But he needs help. He needs a hospital."

"Let's go," Bobby said as he moved back over to the truck, opening the passenger door so John could climb in.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he tried to get down out of Bobby's arms.

"Sam, wait! Let your daddy get Dean settled first, okay?"

The cab of the truck was small, but with John holding onto Dean, Sam was able to climb in next to him on the bench seat. Bobby climbed back in, too, and seconds later they were backing down the driveway and back to the road.

"How is he?' Bobby asked, wanting a rundown of Dean's injuries.

"He's lost a lot of blood, Bobby. A lot. And he's been unconscious since I found him. I think he might have hit his head."

"The hospital's fifteen minutes away. Just keep pressure on that wound."

Bobby could tell that John was in a state of shock, because any other time the man would have snarled something back at him about the fact that he knew what he was doing. Instead, John's focus was entirely on his son.

"Is he okay, Daddy?" Sam asked.

John turned to look at his youngest, as if he had just realized he was there. His eyes softened at the frightened look on Sam's face and he tried his best to reassure him.

"He'll be okay, Sammy. He just needs some stitches and some rest. How about you? Are you okay?"

"I was scared, Daddy. That man was really mean. But, Dean took care of me, Daddy."

"Of course, he did. Dean always takes care of you, doesn't he? He's a good big brother."

"He's the best," Sam said with a sniffle.

John cupped Sam's face with his left hand, noticing a bruise on the small cheek. Fury shot through him, but he quickly reined it back in, knowing that the subject of his fury was no longer alive. Instead, he brought his focus back onto the son he was holding. He checked Dean's leg, relieved to see that the bleeding had mostly stopped. Next, he checked his pulse. He was surprised to feel how fast and erratic Dean's heartbeat was and panic started to take hold again.

"Drive faster, Bobby!" he ordered.

Bobby looked over at John, ready to argue that he was going as fast as he safely could, but one look at the man's face had him pushing the gas pedal down further.

"Put your seat belt on, Sammy," Bobby ordered.

Sam, who had been on his knees on the bench seat, immediately sat down and struggled to strap himself in.

* * *

Bobby pulled up to the ambulance entrance, threw the truck into park, and opened his door, rushing over to the other side of the truck to let John out. As luck would have it, there was an ambulance crew coming out of the trauma bay at that exact moment, so Bobby yelled at them for help.

"We need help over here," he yelled loudly.

The crew ran over to the truck, taking in the sight of the rather burly man holding the limp form of a small boy in his arms.

"What happened?" one of them immediately asked.

"He was stabbed. He's lost a lot of blood," John informed them. "Help him!"

One of the paramedics quickly grabbed Dean from John's arms and headed into the hospital. Bobby was surprised to see John give his son up so quickly, but didn't have time to think about at the moment. He started to follow John and the paramedics into the trauma bay, but was immediately stopped by a security guard.

"Sir, you need to move your truck," the man said to him. "You can't block the ambulance bay."

Bobby turned back to the truck, eager to get it moved so that he could get back to Dean. Opening the door, he was surprised to see Sam still sitting on the seat, still strapped in, tears rolling down his face.

"I can't get out, Uncle Bobby!" Sam cried as he pulled frantically at the seat belt. "It's stuck."

Bobby felt bad that he and John had both forgotten about Sam, but he didn't have time to think about that, either. Getting back into the truck, he drove as fast as he safely could through the parking lot, looking for the first empty spot he could find. Once he parked the truck, he turned to Sam and wrestled with the stuck seat belt, eventually freeing the kid. Sam scrambled out of the truck and started off towards the hospital.

"Wait, Sam!" Bobby yelled as he grabbed the back of his shirt. "Wait for me."

Sam stopped immediately and turned fearful eyes up to Bobby. "Come on, Uncle Bobby. Dean needs me!"

Bobby grabbed Sam's hand and started walking quickly towards the hospital. Sam's little legs worked double-time to keep up with the taller man, but he didn't complain. Once they arrived in the Emergency Room, Bobby looked around until he found an irate John Winchester pacing impatiently in front of the doors that led to the trauma bay.

"John?"

"They won't let me back there," he growled.

"I'm sure someone will let us know how he is soon," Bobby said, trying to pacify his friend. The last thing he needed was for John Winchester to go off half-cocked, which would surely get him kicked out of the hospital.

"I need to know how he is," John nearly yelled.

"John, you need to calm down," Bobby said, noticing how everyone in the waiting room was now watching them.

"Calm down? I can't calm down, Singer. My boy may be dying back there and I'm stuck out here."

Hearing that Dean might be dying brought Sam to tears again and John quickly realized what he had said. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he said as he picked up his son and held him tightly. "Dean will be okay."

"I'm scared, Daddy," Sam sobbed.

"I'm scared, too, kiddo."

John knew he needed to stay calm for Sam's sake. The poor kid had been through so much in the last several days and John suddenly realized that he should probably get Sam checked out as well. Looking over at his friend, he motioned for him to take the boy from him. Bobby stood up and gently removed Sam from John's arms, not missing the way the kid clung onto his father.

"Daddy…." Sam whimpered.

"It's okay, kiddo. I just need to go talk to that lady over there," he said as he pointed over to the check-in desk. "I'll be right back."

John stood up and made his way over to the receptionist, who was looking at him warily.

"I'm sorry, sir. I haven't heard anything about your son yet."

"That's not what I'm here for," John answered. "I need to check my other son in. He needs to be seen by a doctor."

The lady looked over at Sam, wondering what had happened to this family. Pushing the paperwork forward, she instructed John on what he needed to fill out for both of his sons. John took the clipboard and headed back over to Bobby and Sam, settling into the chair next to them.

* * *

He was almost halfway done with the first packet when a nurse called out for Sam. Handing the paperwork to Bobby, he picked Sam up and walked over to the nurse, who led them into a small room. John held Sam on his lap while the nurse took his temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and oxygen saturations. After she was done, she asked John what Sam was being seen for. John really didn't want to go into detail, but he knew the doctor would need to know what had happened in order to take care of Sam.

"My sons…. They were taken by someone. Kidnapped. I, uh… I don't know exactly how they were treated in the days they were gone. I don't know if he fed them or gave them water to drink. I don't know how bad he hurt them. I just….. Sam needs to be checked out."

The nurse couldn't believe what she was hearing. She could hear the devastation in the man's voice and her heart ached at how broken he sounded. "We'll check him out, Mr. Winchester. We'll make sure Sam's okay."

John gave her a thankful smile, not trusting himself to actually say anything. Once she was all done, she sent them back into the waiting room to wait their turn. John sat down, keeping Sam on his lap. Sam leaned back into his dad's chest, allowing his eyes to finally close in exhaustion. Both Bobby and John watched Sam sleep, but they were both thinking about Dean. _What was going on with him? What was taking so long?_

* * *

An hour had passed before the trauma bay door opened and a doctor walked out, searching for the family of Dean Winchester. By that time, Sam had already been checked out and given a clean bill of health. Other than a case of mild dehydration and the bruise on his cheek, the doctor had determined that Sam was fine. With instructions to make sure the kid drank a little extra water and Gatorade over the next few days, they returned to the waiting room to continue to wait for news on Dean.

John was beginning to get antsy again, but this time Bobby had joined him. They were both jiggling their legs restlessly as they watched over Sam's sleeping form, which was laid out on the seats next to them.

When the doctor called out for them, they both immediately stood up, nearly tripping over each other in the process. The doctor made his way over to them, a grim look on his face.

"Mr. Winchester? I'm Dr. Allgood. I've been treating Dean."

"How is he?" John immediately asked. "Is he okay?"

"Maybe we should sit down," the doctor offered.

"I don't want to sit down. I want to know how my son is," John answered gruffly.

"We're prepping him for surgery, Mr. Winchester. The wound in his thigh needs to be cleaned out and whatever it was that caused the injury nicked his femoral artery. We need to repair that."

"Scissors," John said.

"I'm sorry?" Dr. Allgood replied, obviously not understanding what the man was saying.

"Dean was stabbed with a pair of scissors."

"Oh, okay. Well, he'll be heading up to the operating room soon, but I thought you might want to see him first. Once we get him up to the OR, I'd like to talk to you about a few more things."

"Okay," John agreed. Normally he would have insisted on hearing everything the doctor had to say right then, but his need to see his son was greater at the moment. "I want to see my son."

Bobby agreed to stay back with Sam, so John turned and followed the doctor back into the trauma bay. The bay was huge and there was a lot of commotion at the moment with everyone working to get Dean up to the OR. John stared at the small form that was on the gurney in the middle of the room. He could only make out the shape of his son under all the blankets, so he made his way forward, needing to _see_ his son.

Dean's face was as pale as the pillow his head was resting on. His smattering of freckles stood out boldly in comparison. John took in all the lines and tubes that were snaking under the covers, meeting up somewhere with Dean's body. There were several empty bags of blood products hanging on an IV pole nearby and several IV bags pumping fluid into his veins. He noticed a catheter drainage bag hanging at the end of the bed and was glad that Dean wasn't aware of it. _He would absolutely hate that_ , John thought with a small smile.

The monitor above the gurney showed Dean's blood pressure and cardiac rhythm. He was relieved to see that Dean's heart rate wasn't as fast or as erratic as it had been earlier, but it was still a little too fast for his liking.

Stepping up to the bed, he reached under the blankets, searching for Dean's hand. Once he found it, he held on as tightly as he could. Dean's hand was ice cold and John started rubbing it, hoping to warm it up if he could. His eyes lingered on his son's face, noticing how his long lashes brushed against his pale cheeks. Mary had always loved Dean's eyelashes, lovingly complaining that it wasn't fair that lashes like that were wasted on a boy. She had also always loved Dean's lips, calling them Cupid's bow lips, or something like that.

Looking down on him now, John's heart broke at the thought of what Mary would think if she knew he had let Dean get hurt like this. _He was supposed to protect his boys._ _How had he let this happen?!_

One of the nurses finally informed John that they were ready to take Dean up for surgery. He wasn't ready to let the boy out of his sight again, but knowing he had to, he leaned over the rail of the gurney and placed on kiss on Dean's forehead.

"I'll be here when you get back, son," he said quietly. "Sammy, Bobby and I will be right here."

John watched as they wheeled Dean out of the room.

* * *

Author's note: Well, there you go. The boys have been rescued, but they're not out of the woods yet. What did you all think of the reunion? Are you tired of me torturing the boys yet?

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And a special thanks to all of you who take the time to leave a review. I adore you all.


	16. Hold On

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 16

Hold On

* * *

John had no idea how long it had been since they wheeled Dean away from him. He had looked at his watch several times, taking note of the time but forgetting what he'd seen just seconds later. Minutes ticked by without him even realizing. Staff and visitors walked around him without him noticing. Bobby occasionally spoke to him, but he didn't hear him. It wasn't until Sam woke up sometime later, asking immediately for his brother, that John finally felt his head clear a little.

"Daddy? Where's Dean? I want Dean."

John pulled Sam into his lap, holding him close as he rubbed his back. "The doctor's taking care of him, Sammy. We'll see him soon, okay?"

"What's wrong with him, Daddy? Did the bad man hurt him?"

"Dean has a cut on his leg. The doctor has to fix it."

Sam was quiet for several minutes, but then he snuggled in closer to John's chest, hanging on to his shirt with a death grip. "I'm scared, Daddy," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Sammy. Everything's okay now. You're safe."

"But what if the bad man comes back? What if he tries to hurt Dean again?"

"He won't, son. The bad man will never hurt you again, I promise."

"But what if he does?" Sam cried.

Bobby could tell that John was growing frustrated with Sam's questions. He knew it was only because of his immense worry for his oldest son, but figured he should probably intervene, just in case. Without a word, he reached over and pulled Sam away from John and back into his own lap.

"Hey, squirt….. Why don't you and I go get some drinks? I think your Daddy could use one and I bet you could, too."

Sam looked like he was about to argue, but he didn't. Instead, he threw his arms around Bobby's neck and his leg's around the man's waist. "Okay, Uncle Bobby," he answered quietly as he held on tightly.

Bobby stood up and looked down at his friend who was once against looking lost in thought. "We'll be right back, John," he said, not expecting to get an answer from the overwrought man.

John didn't even seem to notice when they left.

* * *

Two hours passed before someone finally came out to talk to John. He had been pacing in the small waiting room for the last hour, his patience growing thinner and his worry growing bigger with each step. When the door opened, he rushed forward, nearly driving the doctor backward several steps.

"How is he?" John immediately asked.

"Mr. Winchester? I'm Dr. Boone, your son's surgeon."

"How is he?" John asked again.

"He's okay, Mr. Winchester. The weapon used nicked his femoral artery, causing him to lose quite a bit of blood. It also tore through part of his Sartorius muscle. We were able to repair both the muscle and the artery without too much difficulty."

"Can I see him?"

"He's in recovery right now, but you can see him soon. Mr. Winchester, we need to talk about your son's other injuries."

"What do you mean?" John asked. "What other injuries?"

"Dean's left arm was fractured in two separate places. We will need to have one of our orthopedists take a look at it tomorrow, but for now we placed it in a splint. He also has multiple bruises and was moderately dehydrated, as well. Dr. Allgood was also concerned that Dean might have a concussion."

John was completely taken aback by the long lists of his son's injuries. In all the chaos, he had really only noticed the bleeding wound on Dean's thigh. With Dean being unconscious and with the urgency of the situation, he hadn't really been able to look for other significant wounds. He only hoped that he hadn't caused Dean more harm with the way he had grabbed him up and ran.

"When can I take him home?" John asked suddenly.

"Mr. Winchester, Dean will need to be closely monitored for several days. He' still at high risk for bleeding and infection from his leg wound. And we want to monitor him for signs and symptoms of the concussion or for even worse brain injury. He'll need treatment for both the blood loss and for the dehydration he's suffered. Not to mention we need to figure out how best to treat his broken arm. He'll need to stay here for several days, at the least."

John looked over at Bobby who was listening intently to what the doctor was saying. Sam was sleeping on a bench seat over in the corner of the room.

"Someone will come and get us when we can see him?" John asked tiredly.

"Of course," Dr. Boone answered. "I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you, Doctor," John answered.

Once the doctor left, John stepped back over to the chairs, sitting down in the one that was closest to Sam. Bobby handed him his cup of coffee.

"He'll be okay, John. He's a fighter," Bobby offered.

"Damn right, he is," John said before sinking down further into the chair and closing his eyes.

* * *

Dean woke up completely confused. Looking wildly around him, he started to panic when he didn't recognize his surroundings. There were bright lights and strange sounds surrounding him, but worst of all, he couldn't see his brother anywhere. He tried to remember exactly what had happened, but his brain was all foggy and disoriented.

Adding to his disorientation was the fact that his arms and legs felt so heavy and he couldn't seem to move them. There was some sort of mask covering most of his face and he felt like he was being buried alive. The panic started to consume him and he suddenly found himself putting all of his energy into trying to get out of wherever he was. _He needed to find Sammy!_

Before he could do anything, though, there were voices surrounding him, all talking to him at once. He was having a hard time understanding anything, but there were occasional words that broke through the fog.

 _Dean….still….don't….calm down….hurt….._

None of it made sense to him and the cacophony of sounds only served toconfuse him even more. Eventually, he was able to bring his arm up and he immediately tried to remove whatever it was that was covering his face. Someone stopped him, though, and he heard fragmented words again.

 _Need….leave….oxygen…..stop, Dean….._

But, Dean didn't stop. He kept reaching towards his face, pushing against whatever was in his way. He grabbed whatever it was on his face and was pulling it off, but someone was trying to stop him.

"Leave me alone," he tried to yell, suddenly realizing how dry his mouth was and how sore his throat felt. "Get away!"

"Dean! You're okay, sweetie. Your surgery is over and you're in the recovery room."

Dean was beginning to be able to make out what was being said to him, but it still didn't make any sense. He continued to fight against whatever was going on around him, looking frantically around him for Sam.

"Sammy!" he yelled. "Sammy!"

By this time, one of the nurses realized the need to calm the boy down. Dean listened as she told another nurse to medicate him, but he still didn't understand what was going on. _Where was he? What were they doing to him?_

He continued to fight, so he wasn't aware when the nurse injected his IV with something to calm him down. As he fought, he realized that his limbs were growing heavier and his vision was blurry and unfocused. He tried so hard to stay awake, to stay focused on what was happening, but it was a lost cause. With his last bit of awareness, he called out again for his brother. Then the darkness overwhelmed him.

* * *

Eventually, a nurse came into the small waiting room to retrieve Dean's family. When she discovered that there was a small child among the group, she quickly informed John that children were not allowed in the Pediatric ICU. Fortunately, Sam was still sleeping, so Bobby assured John that he would stay there and look out for the boy. Without a second thought, John turned and followed the nurse into the ICU.

On the way there, the nurse began to prepare John for what he was about to see.

"It can be a little overwhelming at first, Mr. Winchester," she started.

"John," he said quickly, tired of being called Mr. Winchester. "You can call me John."

"Okay, John. I just want you to be prepared. Dean looks pretty rough right now, but that's to be expected."

"What do you mean by rough?" John asked fearfully.

"Well, first of all, there is a lot of equipment in his room. You'll see several different types of monitors, as well as IV pumps and such. We're giving him lots of fluid and he will probably need another unit of blood tonight. Dean's face is awfully bruised and he's pretty swollen from all the fluids. His left arm is in a splint and his leg has a bulky dressing in place."

John appreciated her telling him what to expect, but he still wasn't prepared for what he saw when he walked into the room. The bed was in the center of the room and there were IV lines and cords snaking under the blankets that were covering the small figure in the bed. He couldn't even really make out Dean's form under all the blankets at first, but when he finally did, he was shocked at how small he looked.

Dean's face was slightly puffier than normal and his freckles stood out starkly from the paleness. He had an oxygen mask covering his face, but John could tell that his eyes were closed and he was breathing normally, if not just a little too fast and shallow. The monitor next to the bed showed the rhythmic beat of his heart and John found himself drawn to that, for some reason.

Taking his eyes off of the monitor, he focused on the multiple bags of fluid that were hanging on the IV poles around the bed. He noticed several empty bags, as well as one bag that looked like it had blood in it.

Once he brought his focus back to the small form in the bed, John suddenly felt completely overwhelmed. Luckily, the nurse had been paying almost as much attention to him as she had been paying to her patient, and she seemed to notice his condition. Pulling a chair out from the corner of the room, she quickly placed it behind John.

"Here you go, John. I think you should maybe sit down."

Without a word, John fell into the seat, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

"Why isn't he awake?" he asked the nurse.

"He'll wake up soon, John. They had to medicate him a little more in the recovery room because he woke up scared and agitated."

"Is that normal?" John asked worriedly.

"Perfectly normal, John. Coming out of anesthesia can be a little disorienting, especially for the little ones."

"When do you think he'll wake up?"

"I'd give him a few hours probably. He needs the rest."

John settled into his chair and reached under the blanket, taking Dean's small hand into his own. As the nurse moved around the room, doing what she needed to do, John did something he hadn't done for a long time.

He cried.

* * *

Author's note: I know this is a shorter chapter than normal and I know that it's a bit late, too, so I apologize. My daughter graduated from college and we had to move her back home, so we've been really busy. Anyway, now that that's all done, I'm hoping to be able to get some more writing done.

Thanks for sticking with me and with the story. I hope you all enjoy the chapter.


	17. I Got You

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 17

I Got You

* * *

Dean opened his eyes and looked around. The first thing he saw was his dad sitting in a chair next to the bed, his head resting in his hands and his eyes closed. Dean thought he looked like he was asleep, but he couldn't tell for sure. Looking around the room even further, he finally realized that he was in a hospital room and in that moment, everything came rushing back to him and he couldn't stop the tears that started falling.

He must have made some sort of noise because in the next few seconds his dad opened his eyes and sat straight up in the chair.

"Dean? How are you feeling, kiddo?"

Dean started to answer, but he was suddenly overcome by a bout of coughing that was so harsh it made his head hurt. John noticed the look of pain cross over Dean's face and he immediately called for a nurse. While they were waiting for the nurse, John scooted closer to the bed and started rubbing Dean's shoulder.

"It's okay, Dean. The nurse is coming and she'll give you something to make you feel better. Where are you hurting?"

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked instead of answering his father's question. "Is he okay?"

"Sammy's fine. He's with Bobby right now."

"I wanna see him."

"He can't come in here, Dean. They don't allow kids here."

"I'm a kid," Dean answered immediately.

"You're a patient. That doesn't count," John laughed.

"I wanna see him, Dad. Please!"

John was trying to figure out how to answer Dean when the door opened and the nurse walked in. "Well, hello," she said as she made her way over to Dean. "How are you feeling, Dean?"

"I wanna see my brother."

"Dean, I told you he can't come in here. Those are the rules, buddy."

"That's a stupid rule," Dean said angrily. "Sammy's not gonna hurt anything in here. And I need to see him."

The nurse shared a look with John before turning back to her patient. "I'll make you a deal, Dean. After breakfast, I need to change the dressing on your leg and Dr. Charles is going to come in and check out your arm. After all that is done and if everything looks good, I'll take you for a ride in a wheelchair and you can see your brother. How does that sound?"

Dean still didn't understand why Sam couldn't just come into his room and he really didn't want to have to wait to see him, but he knew he really didn't have a choice.

* * *

Dr. Boone walked through the door just as the nurse was setting Dean's breakfast down on the table later that morning. Dean immediately started picking at the food, never actually making it to his mouth with any of it, not that any of them seemed to notice. Dr. Boone was discussing the current plan of care with John, which included a few more tests to be run that day, and eventually he stepped over to Dean to perform a head to toe assessment.

Dean answered the doctor's questions with short, minimalistic responses, causing John to get a little frustrated with him. It didn't seem to bother the doctor, though, so Dean continued. He was completely disinterested in anything the doctor had to say, anyway. He was too busy thinking about everything that had happened and he was worried about Sam.

Once Dr. Boone left, John watched his son closely. He still really had no idea what had happened to his boys while they were with the shapeshifter and it was killing him not to know. But, he really wanted Dean to eat something first. There would be time for answers later.

Dean only took a few bites of his breakfast before pushing the tray table away from him. John immediately pushed it right back and gave Dean a stern look.

"Eat your breakfast, Dean."

Dean just pushed it away again. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat, son. You need to regain your strength."

"I don't like oatmeal. Or scrambled eggs."

"Since when?" John asked. In his experience, there weren't too many foods that Dean didn't like. The kid ate just about anything.

"Since now," Dean replied.

"Hey, let's watch the attitude, okay?" John understood that Dean was probably still scared from everything that had happened and with a broken arm, concussion, and the leg wound, he knew he was in pain, too. But he couldn't…..shouldn't let him cop such an attitude.

"I don't have an attitude. And I'm not hungry."

"Dean, I know you're frustrated. And I know you're worried about Sammy. But you need to take care of yourself right now, okay? Sam's fine. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's driving Bobby crazy by now."

John was surprised when Dean's eyes filled up with tears. Seconds later, the boy was leaning over the bed and throwing up the little bit of food and water he had taken in. John immediately grabbed the nearest trash can and held it in front of Dean, while fumbling with the call light as well. He watched anxiously as Dean's vomiting turned into painful dry heaves that shook his whole body.

"Dad….." Dean cried pitifully as he tried to lean back in his bed.

"I'm right here, son. And the nurse is on her way. Just hang in there a few more minutes, okay?"

John watched helplessly as Dean tried to catch his breath. He could tell by the way Dean was scrunching up his forehead that he was hurting.

"Is your head hurting, Dean?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

The nurse walked in at that moment and John quickly filled her in on what was happening. She immediately checked Dean over and then stepped out to get him some medication. She was only gone for a few minutes and when she returned, she quickly injected something into Dean's IV.

"Here you go, Dean. A little something for the nausea and a little something for the pain. You'll feel better pretty quick, okay?"

Dean's eyes were already growing heavier, but he fought to keep them open.

"Just relax, Dean," John said as he held onto Dean's arm.

"I want S-Sammy," Dean said quietly. "P-please, Dad. I wanna see Sammy."

John looked helplessly up at the nurse who was giving him a strange smile.

"He certainly seems to want to see this Sammy person," she laughed.

"It's his little brother. They just went through an awful ordeal together and Dean hasn't seen Sammy since."

"I heard about what happened to him," the nurse said as she looked down at Dean. "I didn't realize his little brother was there too. Is he okay?"

"Sam's fine," John answered. "He's a little dehydrated, scared, and worried about his brother, but he's okay. I don't think Dean will believe that, though, until he sees it with his own eyes. He feels responsible for his brother."

The nurse now was looking down at Dean with a sad look. "Look, John…. I don't normally do this since it's against our rules, but I think I'll make an exception. Once Dean wakes up again, what do you say we bring Sam back to see him."

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah. I think it'll be what's best for my patient, don't you?"

John couldn't agree more and he made sure she knew how grateful he was.

* * *

It was almost three hours later when Dean started showing signs of waking up. By that time, Bobby and Sam were waiting impatiently outside the PICU. The minute Dean looked like he was stirring, John called for the nurse, who went out to get Bobby and Sam.

Dean opened his eyes, but immediately closed them against the bright lights of the hospital room. He did this several times before he was finally able to open them and keep them open. Once he was awake, everything came crashing back in on him and he started feeling anxious again. His thoughts shot immediately to his little brother and his anxiety started to escalate. Before it could get too out of control, though, he heard a familiar voice off to his left.

"Dean! Dean, look what I brought you," Sam called out loudly.

Dean turned his head towards the voice, trying to figure out if he was dreaming or if Sam was really standing next to his bed holding what looked like a Batman action figure.

"Sammy," he croaked before trying to clear his voice. "Are you real?"

"Of course, I'm real, Dean. See?" Dean watched as Sam reached out and pinched himself on the arm. "Ouch! See? That hurt and it wouldn't have hurt if I wasn't real."

Dean laughed at his brother's reasoning and then his eyes filled with tears again. Sam noticed the tears and without hesitation climbed up into Dean's bed.

"Be careful, Sam," John warned as he made his way over to the bed. "Watch out for Dean's arm and leg."

Sam looked down at his brother's arm and leg at his dad's words, making sure not to bump either of them. Once he was settled in a spot that was least likely to cause him to hurt his brother, he looked up at Dean.

"It's okay, Dean. Please don't cry."

"I'm not crying, Sam," Dean answered in a shaky voice. "I…uh, I just have something in my eye."

Sam stared at Dean while Dean stared back at him. Dean didn't take his eyes off his brother as he checked him out from head to toe. "Are you okay, Sammy?" he finally asked.

"I am now. I was worried about you, Dean."

"I was worried about you, too. But, you did good, Sammy. You did what I told you to do."

"I was scared," Sam admitted quietly. "I heard the man yelling at you and I didn't want to leave you, but I ran. I'm sorry, Dean."

This time it was Sam's eyes that filled with tears.

"It's okay, Sammy. Really. I'm glad you ran."

Dean and Sam sat in the bed together for several more minutes before the door opened and another doctor walked in. They listened as the man introduced himself as Dr. Charles, the orthopedist who was there to take a look at Dean's arm. John and the doctor talked for several minutes while Sam and Dean sat on the bed and talked quietly. Once the adults were done talking, the doctor turned back to the bed.

"Now, I wonder which one of you is my patient," he said as he looked at both boys. "Is it you?" he asked as he pointed at Sam.

Sam giggled loudly. "It's him," he said as he pointed at Dean. "Can't you see that thing on his arm?"

Dr. Charles feigned surprise. "Oh, well I thought maybe he was just trying to make a fashion statement or something."

"What's a fashion statement?" Sam and Dean both asked at the same time, causing the adults in the room to laugh.

Dr. Charles stepped even closer to the bed and looked down at the two boys. "Hey, Sam….would you mind if I take a few minutes to check out Dean's arm?"

"I don't mind."

"Sammy, I think he means for you to move," Dean explained. "It's kinda hard for him to check my arm out when you're in the way, dummy."

"I'm not a dummy," Sam argued, looking like his feelings were hurt.

Dean felt bad for upsetting Sam. "I know you're not, Sam. Sorry."

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said as he climbed out of Dean's bed. "I forgive you, idjit."

John and Bobby just laughed at the look on Dean's face.

Finally being able to see his brother had done a world of good for Dean. Once he was able to see for himself that Sam was okay, he was much more amenable to whatever the nurses and doctors needed him to do. At least he was until the nurse told him it was time for his bath.

"No way," Dean exclaimed as he stared wildly at the nurse.

"It'll only take a few minutes, Dean, and you'll feel better afterwards," she answered with a smile, hoping to change his mind.

"No way," he repeated. "I can take a shower."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't. You have a dressing on your leg and your arm is in a splint. No showering for you at the moment."

"Dad, come on," Dean begged as he looked at John, hoping the man would take his side on this.

"Dean, you heard the nurse. You can't take a shower and you really need to get cleaned up. Your hair is a mess."

The nurse, who was named Beth, could tell that Dean was really embarrassed. "Listen, Dean. Why don't I help you wash your hair and then your dad can help you with the rest. Would that be better?"

Dean wasn't sure he wanted his dad to help him bathe any more than the nurse, but he knew he needed to choose. "Okay, Dad can help."

Dean was completely embarrassed by the time they were done, but he had to admit that the nurse was right. _He did feel a whole lot better._ And after he brushed his teeth, he felt even better. Unfortunately, once he felt better, he started to get bored.

And John knew exactly how dangerous and annoying a bored Dean Winchester could be. Things were about to get ugly, for sure.

* * *

Author's note: Yay! Sam and Dean are finally back together. And it looks like they're both going to be okay. I hope you enjoyed the mini reunion of the brothers.

Thanks so much reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story.


	18. Boredom Blues

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 18

Boredom Blues

* * *

Dean stayed in the Pediatric ICU for two more days, much to the dismay of all around him. John knew that the boredom of the place would be too much for his son once he started feeling better and he was right. From the second Dean woke up to the second he fell back to sleep, Dean was bored. More bored that he could ever remember being, in fact.

He flipped through the television, complaining over and over again that there wasn't anything good on. He made paper airplanes and launched them all over the room, trying to hit his dad on the nose whenever the man dozed off. He asked repeatedly for ice cream and fortunately the staff didn't mind bringing it to him. He played games with Sam, but quickly got tired of them. He tried to read, but nothing could hold his attention.

Dean had never been so bored in his life.

John tried to find ways to keep the boy entertained, but nothing he tried lasted longer than half an hour. Dean was going stir crazy and nothing short of being released from his imagined captivity would make him happy.

By the end of day three, John had had enough.

"Dean, for the last time, you're not leaving the hospital today. Dr. Boone says it'll probably still be another few days before he feels comfortable sending you home."

"I can't take it anymore, Dad," Dean groaned. "This place is so boring! There's nothing to do!"

"What would you be doing at home, Dean? You're going to pretty much be on bedrest once you get home, too."

"I don't care. At least Sammy would be there. And Uncle Bobby."

"You'll go home when the doctor says you're ready, kiddo. Until then, you better behave yourself."

Dean didn't like the tone of his dad's voice, but he also didn't think he could just sit there in the bed anymore.

"But, I'm bored, Dad!"

"Come on, kid. I really don't want to hear that again."

"Fine," Dean growled as he turned himself over in the bed. "But this sucks!"

"Trust me, I know," John replied.

* * *

John stepped out of the hospital room for a break. Dean's attitude had only gotten worse as the day wore on and he wasn't sure he could take it anymore without exploding. With one last reminder to his son to behave himself and stay put, he stepped out of the room and made his way to the cafeteria to find some coffee. He wasn't planning on being gone very long, but apparently he was gone long enough.

When he returned to the room after being gone for forty-five minutes, he was surprised to see the nursing staff all looking at him anxiously. Dean's nurse, a young woman named Maggie, met him at the door. John noticed her anxiously wringing her hands.

"Mr. Winchester! I don't know what happened. I checked on Dean right after you left and he was just watching TV. When I took his dinner tray into him a little later, he was gone."

"What do you mean gone?" John asked as he stared at the young nurse. "Where did he go?"

"We don't know! No one saw him leave and we've searched the whole floor."

John started to ask the poor nurse how it was possible for them to lose an eleven year old boy that could barely walk on his own, but then he remembered who he was talking about. Dean could be pretty sneaky when he wanted to be. And if the boy didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be easy to find.

"When did you see him last? How long has it been?"

"I don't know. Maybe thirty minutes?"

Even though Dean wasn't moving very fast, John knew that the boy could cover some good ground if he was determined. He also knew that the boy really shouldn't be walking around without his crutches. Dr. Boone still didn't want him to bear his full weight on his injured leg.

"Please tell me his crutches are missing, too," John asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

"No, sir. They're in his room."

John felt a surge of anger shoot through him at the thought of Dean hurting himself even more by ignoring the doctor's orders. Using the crutches had been a bone of contention for Dean from the very beginning. He hated them and would try to get out of using them any chance he could. In fact, John had lost his temper more than once when Dean adamantly refused to use them on the way to the bathroom. Of course, John ended up winning those arguments.

But now, the kid was running around the hospital without the crutches, causing who knew how much damage to his healing leg. John was getting angrier by the second.

Of course, he was worried, too, but he knew that this was most likely just a little rebellion on his son's part. He really didn't think that Dean was in trouble of the supernatural variety. He had no doubt that Dean had just taken the opportunity of being left alone to get out of his room for a little while.

"Where have you looked already," he asked the staff surrounding him. "And do you have security cameras?"

A man wearing a jacket that said Security on the back stepped forward. "We have cameras in the stairwells, sir. But not here in the corridors. I just sent one of my men down to check out the footage."

"And you've already checked this floor? Every room?"

"Yes, sir. Your son isn't on this floor."

"How many floors are there in this building? Six?"

"Yes, sir. That's including the basement."

John doubted that Dean would go down to the basement after all that he had just gone through. In fact, John was pretty sure that his son would want to make his way outside for some fresh air. Suddenly, a thought came to him.

"Is there a way to get up on the rooftop?"

"Yes, sir. The elevator goes to the sixth floor and then there's a staircase that goes to the roof. But the door is usually locked. Your son won't be able to get up there without a key."

John smiled at the man's words, knowing that a locked door wouldn't be much of a challenge for his son. Of course, that thought only made him wonder why Dean didn't pick the lock of the basement door of the cabin they had been held in. He made a note to ask his son about that.

"I'm going to check out the rooftop anyway," John informed the security guard.

"Really, sir. There's no way he could have opened the door."

John ignored the man and started making his way over to the elevator. "Maggie has my phone number," he said as he punched the elevator button. "Call me if your cameras show anything." No one said anything as the door opened and he stepped into the elevator.

* * *

Dean knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble once his dad found him, but he didn't care. No amount of trouble would have deterred him from taking advantage of being left alone for the first time in days. No threat of punishment could have made him stay in that room for one second longer than he had to. Sitting up on the rooftop was worth every single second of trouble that was surely coming his way. Of course, he'd probably think differently when he found himself face to face with an irate John Winchester.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting up on the roof, but he figured he should probably start thinking about making his way back to his room. He wouldn't admit it, but his leg was really starting to hurt. He figured he really should have used his crutches like the doctor told him to.

He almost made to stand up, but at the last second decided to stay up on the roof just a little bit longer. The air was so fresh, but also cold, making him wish he had grabbed a robe or a blanket so he could enjoy the roof without freezing to death. Regardless of how cold he was, though, he wasn't ready to go back inside to the recirculated air that had a distinguished undertone of bleach and decay. He also wasn't ready to give up the beautiful view of the quickly setting sun for the monotonous gray walls and tiled floors that made up the inside of the hospital.

He sat there for several more minutes, taking in the stars that were starting to twinkle in the night sky once the sun had disappeared below the horizon. He took in several deep breaths, filling his lungs with the cold night air, feeling it burn slightly with each inhalation. Just as he stood up to leave, the rooftop door opened and the figure of a man stepped out of the darkness. For a few seconds, Dean thought it was the shapeshifter coming for him and he felt his heart rate and his breathing both speed up. He stumbled backward a few steps before his leg finally gave out on him, dropping him to the ground.

"Dean!" John yelled as he made his way over to his son.

Dean looked up and realized immediately that it was his father, not the shapeshifter that was running towards him. Relief flooded through him at the realization and he tried to pull himself to his feet. Before he made it up, though, John was at his side, lifting him up and settling him onto his hip. Dean was mortified that his dad was holding him like a child.

"Dad, put me down," Dean pleaded as he tried to push himself away from his dad.

John just held Dean closer. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered, unable to stop the shiver that swept through him.

"Damn it, Dean! It's freezing out here and you don't even have a robe on. What the hell were you thinking?!"

Before Dean could answer, John's phone rang. He shifted Dean to his other hip so he could get to his phone to answer it.

"Winchester," he growled loudly.

"John? What's going on? Sam and I just got here and the nurse said that Dean is missing. Sam's freaking out."

"I found him," John answered as he made his way towards the door. Dean was still fighting to be let down, but John just tightened his grip. "We're on our way back if you want to let the staff know. And tell Sammy that his brother is fine."

John hung up the phone and shoved it back in his pocket as he opened the door and stepped through. He hadn't said much to Dean, but the boy knew that he was pissed.

"Dad, please put me down," Dean begged. He didn't want everyone to see his father carrying him like he was a baby. Especially Sam. "I can walk, Dad."

"Are you supposed to be walking on your leg, Dean?" John nearly yelled. "No, you're not, so I'm not letting you down."

Dean resigned himself to the fate of being carried like a baby, knowing that there was no way he was going to change his father's mind. As they made their way down the stairs and to the elevator, John looked at his son. He didn't miss the fact that Dean was shivering from the cold or that his face was pinched from the pain of over doing it.

"What were you thinking?" John asked angrily.

"I don't know," Dean answered miserably. "I had to get out of there, Dad. I was going crazy!"

"You could have told me, Dean. I would have taken you for a walk or something. Instead, you waited until I was gone and took it upon yourself to disappear. Do you have any idea what you put your poor nurse through? She was nearly hysterical when she found you gone."

Dean felt a surge of guilt at the thought of freaking his nurse out. He really liked Maggie.

"Sorry," Dean muttered as he stared down at the floor. Being held by his father only served to make him realize how tense the man was. He could tell his dad was really, really angry.

John didn't say anything else until they were back in Dean's room. Once they stepped off the elevator, Dean found himself surrounded by nurses and doctors and, of course, Bobby and Sammy.

"Dean! Are you okay?" Sammy cried as he ran over to his brother. "Did you get lost?"

"I'm fine, Sam. And I wasn't lost. I just went for a walk."

John settled Dean back on his bed and stepped back so Maggie could check him out. After checking his vital signs and looking at the wound on his leg, she stepped back and looked at Dean.

"Young man, you scared me!" she scolded. "And Dr. Boone isn't going to be happy to find out that you were walking without your crutches."

"I'm sorry," Dean answered. "I didn't mean to scare you, Maggie."

Maggie stepped forward and pulled the blanket up around Dean. "Just promise me you won't do something like that again, okay?"

"I promise," Dean said, giving her the best puppy dog look he could muster.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "You didn't get to eat your dinner."

Dean looked over at his father, who was looking back at him in irritation. Whatever hunger he had been feeling completely disappeared at the look on John's face.

"I'm not really hungry right now, Maggie, but maybe I can get a snack later?"

"Okay. I'll check back in when it's time for your pain medications."

Maggie turned and walked out the door, leaving Dean to face an irate father, an annoyed surrogate uncle, and a still somewhat scared little brother.

The awkward silence of the room was quickly broken by Sam, who was completely aware of the angry look his dad was giving his brother.

"Daddy? Don't be mad at Dean, okay?" he said pointedly to his father. When John didn't answer, he tried again. "Daddy, he's okay, see? Dean? Tell Daddy you're okay."

"Sammy, it's okay."

"No, it's not! Daddy's mad at you and I don't want you to be in trouble, Dean."

Bobby stepped over to Sam and hoisted him up onto his hip. "Come on, Sam. I think we oughta give your dad and brother some time alone. Let's go find Dean a snack."

"No, Uncle Bobby. I wanna stay with Dean."

"That's enough, Sam," John growled. "Go with Bobby while I talk to your brother."

Sam looked like he was going to argue, but Dean cut him off. "Go on, Sammy. And bring me back something good, okay?"

Sam looked sadly at his brother, but then turned and left with Bobby, leaving Dean alone with John. Once the door was shut behind them, Dean turned back to look at his dad, trying to judge just how mad the man was.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he said again.

"Are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it, Dean. After everything you've been through, you just disappear like that? Did you even stop to think how we would all feel to find you missing? Did you stop to think at all about the fact that you could have reinjured yourself?"

"I don't know…"

"What kind of answer is that, Dean? You don't know? You mean to tell me that you didn't take the time to think about what you were doing? That you didn't know how much trouble you would be in if you got caught?"

"I knew," Dean admitted. "I thought about it, Dad. But, I…."

"What? You thought about it, but you didn't care? You didn't care that people were worried about you? You didn't care that you might reinjure yourself? You didn't care that you would be in a lot of trouble? What exactly did you think about, son? Explain it to me."

Dean stared down at the blanket that was covering him, pulling at a loose string with one hand. "I just needed to get out of this room. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, Dad, and I couldn't breathe. I needed to get out and I guess I really didn't care if I got in trouble. I didn't mean to worry everyone, though. I really just planned on getting some fresh air and then coming right back. I just, uh… I guess I lost track of time."

"I can't believe you would be so irresponsible, Dean. You disobeyed me, son. I gave you strict instructions to stay put when I left, didn't I?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, you disobeyed a direct order, you disobeyed your doctor's orders, and you put yourself in danger. Is that right?"

"I didn't really put myself in danger," Dean said.

"Didn't you? We already covered the fact that you could have reinjured your leg, Dean. You also could have fallen off the rooftop when you stumbled backward. Luckily, your leg gave out and dropped you to the floor before you reached the edge."

Dean didn't have an answer for any of that, so he kept his mouth shut.

"So, why don't you tell me what the usual Winchester punishment is for any of those infractions, son."

"Dad….."

"I want to hear it, Dean. What happens when you disobey a direct order or put yourself in danger?"

"I get punished."

"And _how_ do you get punished?" John pushed.

"I get, um….. you, uh… you spank me," Dean answered miserably. "But, Dad… you can't do that here! Please! Everyone will hear."

John knew that for a punishment to be the most effective it needed to be delivered as quickly as possible, but he agreed with Dean. It wasn't the right time or place to deliver such a punishment. Besides, Dean was still recovering from pretty significant wounds and the last thing John wanted was to make things worse.

"You're right," he finally answered. "We'll shelve that punishment for now, but don't think it's not going to happen, Dean. As soon as you're out of here and I feel the moment is right, you and I have a date."

"Yes, sir."

"Until then, I think I can come up with some other creative punishments."

Dean groaned, knowing just how creative John Winchester could get with his punishments.

* * *

Dean really couldn't believe his dad could be so cruel. John spent almost an hour coming up with suitable punishments and Dean almost wished that he could have just taken the spanking and been done with it. _Almost._

Dean's first punishment was to write an apology letter to everyone that had been worried about him or that had wasted their time looking for him. That meant he had to write a letter to the nursing staff, the housekeeping staff, and to the security staff. He also wrote an individual letter to Maggie, since she was the nurse responsible for his care when he went missing.

Once he was done with those, his dad made him write one hundred lines of "I will follow my doctor's orders" followed by one hundred lines of "I will follow my father's orders" and "I will never put myself in danger again."

That wasn't the worst of it, though. John also told him that he wasn't allowed to watch anything other than educational shows on the television and that he wasn't allowed any desserts for two whole days. _Two whole days!_

All in all, Dean didn't think it was very fair. If he hadn't been injured, none of the extra punishments would have been required. Instead, his dad would have dealt out the normal punishment, Dean would have sulked for a while, and then everything would have been forgiven. _No, it wasn't fair that he had to suffer through all of the added punishments and still have the knowledge that he was going to get spanked eventually, too._

Sam and Bobby returned sometime later with a tray full of food for Dean. Sam immediately checked his brother out, looking for signs of Dean's punishment. He was relieved to see that it didn't look like his brother had been crying.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sammy."

"Did Daddy spank you?" he couldn't help but ask.

"No."

"Really? But you disobeyed him. And Uncle Bobby says you could have hurt your leg again."

"I know, Sam," Dean said, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"But he didn't spank you?"

"Sammy, come on. Stop talking about… you know…."

"I thought he was really mad at you, Dean," Sam whispered, still not believing that his father wouldn't punish Dean.

"He is mad, Sam. He made me write apology letters to everyone and I had to write a thousand lines."

"A thousand? Really?" Sam sent a glare over to John at his brother's words.

"Not really," Dean admitted. "It just seemed like a thousand."

"Is that it?"

"No. I can't watch TV unless it's something _educational_ and he said no dessert for two days," Dean groaned.

"Uh oh," Sam said as he suddenly ran back over to the tray of food they had brought in.

"Uh oh, what?" Dean asked as he tried to figure out what Sam was doing.

"Nothin', Dean," Sam said innocently.

Dean watched as Sam grabbed something from the tray and held it behind his back.

"What is that?" Dean asked suspiciously. When his brother didn't answer, Dean sat up straighter in the bed. "Sammy? What are you hiding behind your back?"

John and Bobby were watching the scene in front of them with a smile on their faces.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't know Daddy said no desserts for you. I didn't know or else I wouldn't have begged Uncle Bobby to buy you these."

Dean groaned when Sam brought his hands around to the front of him, realizing immediately that both were holding a piece of pie. John grabbed both pieces from Sam and looked at them.

"Sorry, Dean-o. The no dessert punishment still stands. Too bad, though, because it looks like Sam managed to find your two favorite kinds of pie.

Dean groaned again as he watched his dad and Uncle Bobby digging into a piece of apple pie and a piece of coconut cream pie. _Yeah, his dad's creative punishments really sucked._

* * *

Author's note: Poor Dean. Having to watch them eat his pie must have really sucked, lol.

Thank you all for sticking with this story. And a special thank you to those who take the time to review. You guys are all awesome and I truly appreciate every single one of you.


	19. Coming Home

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 19

Coming Home

* * *

By the time Dean was finally discharged, the nurses were happy to see him go. They, of course, loved the kid, often fighting over who was going to get to be the one to bring him his pie once his father's restrictions were lifted. Dean definitely knew how to pour on the charm to get the hospital staff to do whatever he wanted. Within reason, of course.

Despite their love for the kid, though, they were still ready to be done with the exhaustion that came from dealing with a bored eleven year old, his adorable little brother, and the overbearing man that was John Winchester. In fact, it was more that they were ready to get rid of John than anything else.

The man had proven to be too over-protective of both of his boys on many occasions. He also had proven to be too demanding of those same two boys on more than one occasion. When the nurses might have been inclined to let Dean whine a little during his painful physical therapy treatments, John expected the boy to suck it up and deal with it. While the nurses didn't mind Dean eschewing the vegetables on his dinner tray, John expected him to eat everything he was given. And while they didn't care if Dean stayed up late to watch a movie, John expected the boy to be in bed, eyes closed and lights out, at nine o'clock. Not that these were unusual expectations from a parent, mind you. It was more that the staff felt like Dean had been through a horrible experience recently and deserved a little special treatment.

In John's defense, he knew that his son had been through a horrible experience and he wanted nothing more than to get things back to normal. Dean knew what was expected of him and he knew what to expect if he didn't act accordingly. All John was trying to do was to bring some much needed consistency back into his son's life.

The drive back to Bobby's was a noisy, tumultuous affair. Bobby had driven the Impala back to the hospital, so the ride back would be a little more comfortable for Dean. Not that Dean was worried too much about that. He really didn't care that his leg was hurting him something awful or that he still felt a little too weak to be up on his feet for too long. He was going home. _Well, he was going back to one of the only homes he had ever really known._

The boys were sitting in the back seat, completely oblivious to the fact that their dad kept eyeing them in the rearview mirror and Bobby kept turning in his seat to check on them. Sam hadn't stopped talking since they pulled out of the hospital parking lot and Dean was patiently listening to everything his little brother was saying.

And Sam was saying a lot. He was telling Dean all about how they had set up a place for him in Bobby's living room so he wouldn't have to climb up the stairs just yet.

"And we got you brand new pillows, Dean. Three of them. Daddy said you need some to um…. To frop up your leg."

Dean laughed at his brother causing Sam's face to crumble. "What's so funny?" Sam griped.

"I think it's supposed to be "prop" your leg up, Sammy. Not frop."

"Nuh uh. Daddy said "frop". Right, Daddy?"

"Sorry, Sammy," John laughed. "It's prop."

Sam settled back in his seat and crossed his arms in anger. Dean looked over at his little brother, fighting back the urge to laugh at the pout on his face.

"It's okay, Sam. Tell me about these pillows. Are they super soft?"

Sam quickly regained his excitement now that Dean seemed interested in the pillows. "They're the softest, Dean. Daddy let me pick them out for you, so I got the softest ones they had."

John threw an appreciative glance at Dean in the mirror, thanking him for throwing Sam off the tantrum track, knowing that it wasn't always an easy task.

By the time they were done discussing the soft pillows, Sam had moved on to telling Dean about all the snacks they had stocked up on and the movies they had lined up for him to watch. Dean wasn't sure that the movies were really his kind of movies, but he figured he wouldn't mind watching a few Disney movies with his brother.

* * *

Once they arrived at the salvage yard, Dean was ready for a nap. He would never admit that to anyone, but it was obvious to anyone that even took one look at him. His eyes were heavy and he suddenly seemed to have no energy at all, prompting John to pick him up out of the car.

"Dad! I can walk!"

"You're tired, Dean. It's okay. I got you."

Dean started to argue, but found that he didn't have the energy to continue. So after giving up, he just leaned his head against his dad's shoulders and closed his eyes. John made his way into the house and straight over to the couch, depositing Dean gently on the well-used couch. Sam grabbed the pillows that were stacked up on the other end of the couch and tried to prop Dean's leg up. Once he had it like he liked it, he grabbed the blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over his brother.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said just before a huge yawn escaped him.

"Wanna watch a movie, Dean?" Sam asked as he rifled through the stack of VHS cassettes next to the television.

"Dean needs to take a nap, Sam," John said as he fixed the pillow behind Dean's head.

"I don't need a nap, Dad," Dean complained. "I wanna watch a movie."

"You can watch a movie after you've taken a nap, son."

"But, I'm not tired," Dean whined.

"Go to sleep, Dean," John growled. "Sammy, leave your brother alone so he can sleep."

Sam and Dean both started to argue, but one look from John had them both doing as they were told. Within seconds, Dean was sound asleep.

* * *

Dean woke up almost three hours later to find Sam staring at him.

"What the hell, Sam?!" he cried as he sat straight up. "You scared the hell out of me?"

"Language, Dean!"

Dean's eyes flew over to the doorway where his father was standing, looking at him disapprovingly.

"Sorry, sir," Dean quickly answered.

"It's time for dinner, Dean. Uncle Bobby made spaghetti!" Sam grabbed Dean's hand and started to pull him up off the couch. Just as he made it to his feet, John was there with the crutches, much to Dean's dismay.

"I don't need those, Dad," Dean tried.

"Yes, you do, kiddo. The doctor said you need to use them until your next check-up, so you're gonna use them."

"They hurt my arms, Dad," Dean whined. "And I'm just going into the kitchen."

"You're using them, Dean. And I'm sorry they hurt your arms, but you're just going into the kitchen, remember?"

Dean rolled his eyes as he made his way into the kitchen. His mouth watered at the smell of the spaghetti and garlic bread that was waiting on the table for them.

"I hope you're hungry, kid," Bobby said when he saw Dean. "I made your favorite and I made a lot of it."

"Thanks, Uncle Bobby. I'm starving," Dean answered with a smile. He sat down in his usual seat with Sam sitting next to him. John took the crutches and leaned them against the counter before sitting down in the chair across from his boys.

After loading up everyone's plates, the conversation died down as they all chowed down on the spaghetti. By the time they were done, Sam had not only knocked over his own glass of juice, but had also knocked over Dean's. Both Sam and Dean were laughing uproariously when Dean's glass fell in the direction of their father and rolled into his lap, spilling the juice all over him. John looked angry at first, but after seeing the smiles on his sons' faces, he started laughing, too.

Once they were done with dinner, Bobby stood up and made his way over to the oven. Dean watched as he pulled something out of the oven and brought it to the table, setting it down in front of him.

"Is that an apple pie, Uncle Bobby?" Dean said excitedly.

"Yeah, kid. Sam said it's your favorite."

"It is! Well, it's one of my favorites," Dean admitted. "Actually, I don't think I can pick a favorite. I love 'em all!"

"That's what I told Sam, but he said you really liked apple pie, so that's what I made."

"You made this?" Dean asked as he shoveled a bite in his mouth.

"I did. What do you think?"

"It's delicious!" Dean sputtered, his mouth full of pie.

"Yuck, Dean! You just spit all over me!" Sam yelled at his brother as he wiped off the bits of apple pie that were stuck on his face and in his hair.

"Sorry, Sammy."

Dean quickly finished his piece of pie and reached for another, but John stopped him. "Hold up there, kiddo. I think you've had enough for now."

"But, I'm still hungry," Dean argued.

"You can't possibly still be hungry, Dean. You had two helpings of spaghetti and three pieces of garlic bread. Not to mention the giant piece of pie you just ate."

"Come on, Dad. I'm a growing boy."

"Growing boy or not, you've had enough. You can have more pie tomorrow."

Dean looked longingly at the pie before putting his fork down. Bobby and Sam both laughed at the look of extreme disappointment on his face, but stopped when Dean glared at them.

"Come on, Dean…. Let's go watch a movie!"

Sam jumped down from the table and ran back into the living room. Dean stood up and took a single step to follow his brother when his father's throat-clearing stopped him.

"Forgetting something?" John asked as he held out the crutches.

Dean didn't bother answering. Taking the crutches and stuffing them under his arms, he made his way into the living room just in time for the opening credits of The Fox and the Hound. Settling onto the couch next to Sam, he struggled to get the pillows just right under his leg. After watching his brother try to get the pillows right for almost a full minute, Sam finally reached over and stacked the pillows better, situating them under Dean's leg the best he could.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said as he settled back.

"Do you like the pillows, Dean?" Sam asked in a soft voice.

"They're the best pillows ever. You did good, little bro."

Sam settled back against the bed with a look of pride on his face.

* * *

After sharing a few cups of coffee with Bobby, John eventually joined his sons in the living room. Sam was curled up next to Dean, sound asleep. Dean didn't look like he was too far behind his brother.

"I think it's time for bed, kiddo," John said as he handed Dean a glass of water. "But, you need to take your meds first, okay?"

Dean grabbed the glass of water and held out his hand for the pills. Without a word, he put the pills in his mouth, took a gulp of water, and threw his head back to swallow them. Because he was always such an active child, he was no stranger to injuries that required him to be frequently medicated. Taking pills wasn't a problem for him, but Sammy was a different story.

Once the pills were down, John started to gather Sam up in his arms so Dean could stretch out on the couch. "You can just leave him here, Dad," Dean suddenly said. "There's room for both of us on the couch."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Dean. You need to be able to stretch your leg out and you don't need to worry that Sam's going to accidentally kick it in his sleep. You'll be more comfortable if Sam's sleeping in his own bed."

Dean didn't look completely convinced, but he knew better than to argue with his dad. John took Sam upstairs to tuck him in, but several minutes later he returned to do the same for his oldest. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Dean returned to the couch and allowed his dad to help him get settled. Before leaving, John placed a cow bell on the table next to the couch.

"If you need anything during the night, just ring the bell, okay? I'm just going to be sleeping in the library, so I won't be too far away."

"I'll be fine, Dad. I won't need anything."

"Alright, kiddo. Goodnight."

"Night, Dad."

Dean closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn't take his mind off of Sam. He wished that his dad would have let his little brother stay downstairs so he could keep an eye on him. He didn't like it when Sam was out of his sight. It made it harder to do what he was supposed to do. It made it harder to watch out for Sammy.

Almost twenty minutes later, Dean finally heard the deep snores coming from the library. Without waiting a single second more, he pushed himself off the couch and painstakingly made his way over to the staircase and up the stairs. He made sure to circumvent the third step from the top, knowing that it would creak loudly and more than likely give him away. The last thing he needed was for his father to wake up and find him negotiating the stairs without his crutches.

Once he made it to the top of the stairs, Dean quietly limped into the room he usually shared with his brother whenever they were staying with Bobby. He let out a great sigh of relief when he saw the still form of his little brother buried under the blankets with only a tuft of his brown hair showing. _Sammy was okay. He was alright._

Without waiting any longer, Dean made his way over to the bed and pulled back the blankets as much as he could without disturbing Sam. He climbed in next to his brother, being as careful as he could not to jostle his leg too much in the process. Once he felt he was settled as comfortably as he could be, he pulled the blankets up to his chest. Just as he closed his eyes and felt himself starting to doze off, he felt Sam roll over and curl up into his side.

Dean's last thought was of how happy he was to be home.

* * *

John woke up early the next morning, surprised to see that it was almost seven o'clock. After all the juice Dean had the night before, he had anticipated having him wake up at least once during the night to use the bathroom. But he hadn't. The boy had slept straight through the night.

John made his own way to the bathroom before heading into the living room to check on his son. A flurry of panic swept through him when entered the living room and noticed the empty couch. Before he gave into the panic, John went into the kitchen, hoping to find that maybe Dean had just woken up hungry and was now trying to find himself something to eat. Unfortunately, the kitchen was empty too.

Just as the panic started to overwhelm him, Bobby walked into the kitchen, immediately noticing the look on his friend's face. "Morning, John. Does that look on your face have anything to do with the fact that both of your boys are currently sound asleep upstairs in their bedroom?"

"Dean's upstairs?"

"Yep. I looked in on Sam as I was passing by and noticed that he had company. I thought Dean was going to be sleeping down here for the next few days."

John's face darkened when he realized that sometime during the night Dean had made his way upstairs by himself. Without his crutches.

"I'm gonna kill that boy," he growled at no one in particular.

"Go easy on him, John. He's still recovering, remember?"

"He's never going to recover if he doesn't do what the doctor told him to do. He's not supposed to be bearing any weight on that leg yet!" John stepped toward the kitchen door only to be stopped by Bobby.

"He's sleeping, John. This can wait until he wakes up, right? He needs to rest as much as possible too, remember? Doctor's orders."

John was reluctant to back down, but he did, knowing that Bobby was right. "Fine! I'll let him sleep. But that boy is in for it when he wakes up."

Bobby quickly made a pot of coffee, hoping to calm John down a little with the caffeine. _For Dean's sake, the man really needed to calm down._

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the wait on this chapter, y'all. Life has been a little crazy lately, which usually means I just don't have as much time to write as I'd like. I hope this chapter makes up for the wait. And those of you that are worried that John is going to kill poor Dean, I promise that isn't going to happen. The man may just surprise you.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Take care.


	20. Best Behavior

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 20

* * *

It was almost ten o'clock in the morning before Dean finally woke up. Sam had been awake for at least an hour and was downstairs helping Bobby with something, so when Dean opened his eyes and saw his brother wasn't in the room, he panicked.

Scrambling out of the bed as fast as he could, Dean ignored the pain that shot through his leg. He also ignored the little voice in his head that tried to remind him of how much trouble he would be in if his dad found him walking around without his crutches. _But, he didn't care. He had to find Sammy._

From the moment his feet hit the floor, Dean was calling out for his brother, his voice echoing in the space of the small room. His heart rate was speeding up with each passing second of him not knowing where his little brother was and by the time Dean reached the top of the staircase, it was pounding painfully.

"DEAN WINCHESTER! STOP RIGHT THERE!" John's voice bellowed from the bottom of the staircase, causing Dean to come to a complete stop at the top. "Don't you take another step, young man! Stay right there."

John made his way up the stairs and stopped directly in front of his son. Without a word, he turned Dean to the side and popped him on the backside twice with the palm of his hand. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked angrily as he turned Dean back to face him.

Dean didn't even seem to notice what his dad was doing. His mind was focused solely on finding his brother. "Where's Sam?! Where is he?!"

John finally seemed to notice the panic that had taken over his son. "Dean, calm down. Sammy's downstairs with Bobby. He's fine."

Dean started to make his way down the first step, but John stopped him. Without another word, he picked Dean up and carried him downstairs so he could see for himself that his brother was fine. He could feel the tension leave Dean's body the moment the kid laid eyes on Sam, who was currently stacking books in the corner of the library while Bobby was looking through several different books.

"Sammy!" Dean cried. "Why didn't you wake me up when you woke up?"

"I tried, Dean."

"Well, you didn't try hard enough, Sammy."

"I did!" Sam said, indignantly. "You wouldn't stop snoring and when I pinched your nose shut, you hit me. It hurt!"

"Sorry," Dean mumbled. "Dad, can you put me down? Please?"

John ignored Dean's request and instead turned to leave the room. "We'll be back," he called over his shoulder. "Dean and I need to have a little talk."

Dean definitely didn't like the sound of that, but he knew he had no choice but to go along with his dad. It wasn't like he could run away or something.

John carried Dean into the living room and set him down on the couch. Dean noticed that someone had folded up his blankets and set them aside, along with the pillows. He watched as his dad grabbed the pillows and took a few seconds to prop his leg up. He also noticed the hated crutches leaning against the wall, looking as if they were staring at him accusingly. _Yep, he was definitely in for it!_

After settling Dean down on the couch, John sat down in the armchair next to him. Dean could tell by the look on the man's face that he was annoyed and was trying to figure out how to handle the situation. After what felt like an eternity of staring down at his hands while his father stared at him, Dean finally looked up.

"I know I'm in trouble, Dad. And I'm sorry, but…."

"But, what, Dean?"

"I had to make sure that Sam was okay, Dad. It's my job to watch out for him."

"You don't have to watch out for him all the time, Dean. Uncle Bobby and I are watching out for him, too."

"Yeah, but….."

"But?"

Dean stared down at this hands, not wanting to say what he was thinking. _That they hadn't been watching out for Sammy good enough. That they had allowed some monster to take Sammy._

"Dean? But, what?"

"Never mind, Dad."

"Dean…."

When Dean didn't say anything else, John continued. "What were you thinking walking up those stairs by yourself and without your crutches? Didn't I make myself clear when I said that you weren't supposed to go anywhere without them?"

"Yes, sir. You made yourself clear."

"And yet you still went off without them? And you went upstairs? What if you had fallen, Dean? Do you realize what could have happened to you?"

"Yes, sir."

John rubbed his face in frustration, knowing that he wasn't getting anywhere with his son at the moment. "Son, I need you to listen to me. From this point on, you don't go anywhere without your crutches. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean repeated.

"I mean it, Dean. If I see you take even one step without them, you and I are gonna dance. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And since I can't make you run laps or do extra PT, I'm gonna need to be creative here. I think I'll start with putting you to cleaning the guns. You can do that sitting at the dining room table where I can keep an eye on you."

Dean looked at John as if he had lost his mind. _Cleaning the guns? As punishment?_ In Dean's mind, cleaning the guns was awesome. He loved _everything_ about guns, including the never-ending maintenance that had to be done. Anytime he could hold a gun in his hands was okay with him _. How was that a punishment?!_

But, Dean was smart enough not to say anything to his father. If the man thought that was a punishment, Dean wasn't going to be stupid enough to tell him otherwise.

* * *

The next few days went by without incident. John took Dean to his doctor's appointment and they were both relieved when the man said Dean didn't need the crutches anymore. He recommended that Dean continue the physical therapy, but when John informed him that they weren't going to be staying in the area for too much longer, Dr. Boone gave them instructions on how to do the therapy at home.

Dean also had an appointment with Dr. Charles regarding his broken arm and after hearing that he would need to wear the cast for at least another month, they returned to Bobby's. John noticed how nervous his son was the whole time they were away from Sam and it broke his heart a little. He knew how serious Dean took his 'watching out for Sammy' job, but he really wished the kid would back off a bit. He was sure to drive himself crazy if he didn't.

After another four days at Bobby's, John started to get antsy. He was never the type of guy to enjoy just sitting around doing nothing, and that's really all he had been doing since getting his boys back. Nothing. So, it wasn't a surprise to anyone when he said he was leaving for a hunt. Bobby didn't look like he was going to argue with the man until John brought up the fact that he would be taking Sam and Dean with him.

"I don't think that's a good idea, John," he said.

"Look, Bobby….. This hunt is clear down in Tennessee. There's no sense in me leaving them and having to come all the way back to South Dakota in a few weeks to get them, right?"

"It makes no sense for you to take them with you, John," Bobby argued. "What are you going to do with them while you're hunting? Leave them alone in a motel room somewhere?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, Singer."

"Dean has a broken arm and a bum leg, Winchester. Or have you forgotten that little tidbit of information?!"

"Dean's fine. A few injuries aren't gonna hold him back. Right, Deano?"

Dean was torn as to how to answer that. There was a part of him that didn't want to go anywhere, that wanted to stay at Uncle Bobby's for a little longer. But there was another part of him that didn't want his father to leave without them. And he knew that the man would. Nothing was going to keep John Winchester from a hunt.

Before Dean could figure out what he wanted to say, though, Bobby spoke again.

"John, leave them here with me. I think both boys could use a little more down time and when you're done with the hunt we can meet you halfway. How does that sound?"

John looked like he still wanted to say no, but one look at Dean's still too pale face and casted arm seemed to make his mind up for him. "Okay. The boys can stay with you, Bobby. I'll call you when the hunt is done."

Sam, who up until that point didn't even look like he was listening, suddenly burst into tears. "I don't want you to go, Daddy. Please don't go."

Dean immediately moved over to Sam and pulled him against his side. John looked down at his youngest, trying to figure out what to say to make him stop crying. Fortunately, Dean beat him to it, but he noticed that Dean didn't look all too happy, either.

"Don't worry, Sammy. It's only for a little bit. And Uncle Bobby will be here with us. I bet he'll let us finish that tree fort we started last summer, remember?"

Sam wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt before turning to Bobby. "Can we, Uncle Bobby? Please?"

Bobby looked over at John, whose attention was fixed on Dean. Knowing that the man wanted to talk to his oldest son, he tried to distract Sam. "I don't see why not, kid. I'm sure I've got some extra supplies laying around here somewhere. Why don't we go into the library and start making up some plans?"

With Sam's attention now on something else, John took the time to talk to Dean.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Dean?"

"Do you have to leave, Dad? Couldn't someone else go instead?"

"Why don't you want me to go, kiddo?"

"It's not me, it's Sam," Dean answered, hoping his dad wouldn't pick up on his lie. "He doesn't want you to go."

"It's just for a few weeks, Dean," John said, picking up on Dean's lie easily. "You boys have stayed with Bobby longer than that in the past."

"I know. It's just….."

"It's just what, Dean?" John asked.

"Never mind, Dad. I'll take care of Sammy. He'll be okay."

"Dean…."

"When are you leaving?' Dean asked in an attempt to hide the fact that he really, really didn't want his father to go.

John started to demand that Dean answer his question, but thought it better to leave it alone for the moment. "I'll leave in the morning. Caleb said he'd be here by four a.m."

"Caleb's going with you?"

"Yeah. This is a two-person job, for sure."

Dean felt a little better knowing that his dad wouldn't be hunting alone. He didn't like it when the man did a job on his own.

John knew exactly what his son was thinking, so he tried to appease the boy. "It's an easy job, Dean, but it's always good to have back-up. And the sooner we get the job done, the sooner we can all move on. Now… what do you say we go help Bobby and Sam with those tree fort plans?"

* * *

The rest of the evening went by fast and eventually it was time for bed. After Sam's bath and Dean's shower, both boys were waiting in their beds for John to say goodnight. John was surprised to see the boys in separate beds, but figured that they probably wouldn't stay that way all night. It seemed that Sam was still having nightmares about the whole kidnapping ordeal. Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he was, too. He was just better at hiding it than his little brother.

"Well, boys, I don't think I have to tell you that I expect you to behave for Bobby while I'm gone, do I?"

"No, sir," Dean answered immediately, followed by Sam's "No, Daddy."

"I didn't think so. I know that you'll both be on your best behavior. Sam, that means you do as Uncle Bobby and Dean both tell you. And Dean? Watch out for Sammy, but don't forget that Uncle Bobby is watching out for him, too."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. Caleb is going to be here bright and early, so I'll say goodbye now. You two will be sound asleep when we leave."

Sam's eyes filled with tears, but he was able to keep them from falling. "Daddy, why do you have to leave?"

"I have a job to do, Sammy."

"Will you get paid lots and lots of money, Daddy?"

John and Dean shared a look before John answered. "Not a lot, Sammy, but maybe enough to buy you a few new books. How does that sound?"

"Can you buy Dean something too?"

"Sure! I'm sure I can find Dean some new books, too."

Dean groaned at that and Sam just laughed.

"Daddy, Dean doesn't like books, remember?" Sam asked as he looked at his dad as if the man had lost his mind.

"Well, then…. What should I buy for Dean?"

"Pie!" Sammy yelled as he bounced on his bed. "And beer!"

"Sammy!" Dean whispered, trying to get his brother's attention.

"Beer?" John asked. "Why would I buy him beer?"

"Because he likes it, Daddy," Sam answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dean groaned as he felt his father's eyes on him.

"And how does Dean know he likes beer, Sam?"

"He told me, Daddy. He said that nothing tasted as good as a cold beer when you were really thirsty. Remember, Dean?"

Dean groaned again. "Sammy, please stop," he begged.

John glared at his oldest son before turning his attention back to his youngest, knowing the answers would come faster and easier from the seven year old. "When did Dean have a beer, Sam?"

"Yesterday. Right after lunch."

John thought back to what happened after lunch the day before, his face darkening when he remembered that he and Bobby had gone out to work on Bobby's truck while the boys watched a movie. Turning his attention back to his oldest, he could tell that the boy was feeling guilty.

"Dean? Did you drink a beer yesterday?"

Dean looked like he wasn't going to answer, but he finally did. "Yeah."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir," he amended.

"And are you supposed to be drinking a beer?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then it looks like we have a problem here, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, wondering why it was he couldn't seem to keep himself out of trouble.

John hated the idea of having to punish his son right before he was leaving for two weeks. But, he knew he had a responsibility to do just that. And while he was tempted to pull Dean over his knee and spank him, he really didn't want to leave on that note.

"Okay, listen up, Dean. For the next week, you're grounded. No television, no Walkman, no going outside to play. And your new bedtime is nine o'clock for the foreseeable future. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Dean groaned.

"Just be thankful you have that cast on your arm, son. I was going to give you kitchen duty for the next two weeks, but seeing as you can't use that arm, you got lucky."

Dean looked like he would have rather had the kitchen duty than the rest of his punishment. _What was he supposed to do with himself when he couldn't watch TV, listen to music, or go outside? And a nine o'clock bedtime? That sucked._

"You're not getting off to a good start on the 'best behavior' thing, are you?" John said as he ruffled Dean's hair in an attempt to lighten things up a little.

"Hey, that doesn't count," Dean argued. "That happened before your 'be on your best behavior' speech."

John laughed at the look on Dean's face. "Well, pardon me for thinking that the two of you knew that you were always supposed to be on your best behavior. What was I thinking?!"

Sam looked at John warily, trying to figure out if the man was still mad or not. "Daddy, I've been trying to, um….. to best behave. Dean, too. But it's hard for him sometimes. He can't help it."

John was now laughing at his youngest son. "You got that right, Sammy. I think expecting Dean to stay out of trouble is a little like expecting to win the lottery. It can happen, but it probably won't."

Sam didn't look like he really understood what his dad was saying, but Dean did. "Hey! I can stay out of trouble," he said as he glared at his dad.

"Can you? Maybe you can prove yourself while I'm gone, Deano. Think you can stay out of trouble for two whole weeks?"

"I know I can." Dean really thought he could, but he knew it wouldn't be easy. For some reason, trouble just had a way of finding him.

"I know you can, too, Dean," Sam added.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sammy."

"I'll make you a deal, boys. If the two of you can keep yourselves out of trouble for the entire time I'm gone, I'll take you somewhere special. How does that sound?"

"Really?" Sam asked excitedly as he jumped on the bed.

John reached out and grabbed Sam around the waist, popped him on the backside, and sat him back on the bed.

"Ow!" Sam cried out as his hands flew to rub the sting out of his bottom.

"Really," John answered. "Starting right now, from this moment on. Deal?"

"Deal," Dean answered even as he moved over to Sam's bed to comfort him. "Right, Sam?

"Deal," Sam grumbled, obviously still upset about the smack he'd received.

"Okay, then. It's time for bed, boys." John leaned over the bed and kissed the top of Sam's head, followed by Dean's. "I'll call you in a few days to check on you, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered for both of them.

John got up from the bed and walked to the door. Just as he was about to turn out the lights, he took one more look at Sam and Dean, who were now snuggled down in the same bed. "Goodnight, boys. I'll see you soon."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Night, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, Sammy. You, too, Dean."

With that, John turned off the light and closed the door behind him, leaving both Sam and Dean to silently cry themselves to sleep.

* * *

Author's note: Well, I hope you don't mind the fluff in this chapter. I have a feeling it won't be lasting long, but who knows?! I think there are still a few more adventures in store for our boys before this story is over and I hope you're all okay with that.

Thanks so much for sticking with this story. I really appreciate you all.


	21. Good Intentions

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 21

* * *

Dean tried his best to stay out of trouble. He really did. He did everything Uncle Bobby told him to do and kept his cocky comments to himself. He made sure that Sammy did what he was supposed to do, too. But, as usual, the moon and stars aligned in just the right way and the day before John was due home, Dean found himself in a world of trouble.

In his defense, trouble often came along without any assistance from him. It was almost like he was a magnet for anything and everything that could go wrong. Regardless of his good intentions, things invariably went wrong. And regardless of his careful attempts to cover up his mistakes, someone invariably found out.

* * *

Thursday morning started off like any other morning. Bobby was the first to wake up and he always allowed Sam and Dean to sleep in as long as they wanted. He told himself it was to allow the boys to do what normal kids did on Sunday mornings, but the truth of the matter was that he was tired. Taking care of a seven and an eleven year old was something he wasn't used to doing and he was exhausted. Really, really exhausted. Sam and Dean were both high-energy, mischievous kids and if he didn't watch them every minute of the day, he knew they would find trouble. Or trouble would find them. After all, they were Winchesters.

If he were being honest, he might admit that he was being a little hard on the boys. After all, Sam and Dean stayed alone quite often and for the most part, Dean kept them out of trouble. The kid shouldered a lot of responsibility on a daily basis and usually came out on top. Of course, John told him many stories of times that Dean's childishness got the best of him. After all, he really was just a child.

The Shtriga incident was the first that came to mind, of course. Especially since that incident was one that still left Bobby feeling cold inside. But there were others, too. Schoolyard fights were often a thing with Dean. Bobby understood that most of these fights were brought on by bullies and that Dean was only usually sticking up for his brother. And while he applauded the kid for having his brother's back, he also understood why John found it necessary to punish the boy for his actions. The last thing the Winchester family needed was for anyone to get suspicious about anything at all. All it took was for one teacher or principal to wonder why Dean was always so protective of his little brother. All it took was for one teacher to become curious about the two Winchester brothers, whose clothes never seemed to fit quite right and who, more often than not, kept to themselves.

There were other incidents, too. Once when Dean was eight, he had been caught stealing a candy bar from the counter of the motel they had been staying in. Bobby remembered that incident clearly, because the reasoning behind Dean's actions nearly broke his heart. The boy knew that stealing was wrong unless it was absolutely necessary, and Bobby supposed that he must have thought it necessary at that particular moment.

And truthfully, it was all John's fault. He had been the one that left the boys alone for two whole days. And it was his fault for not remembering that it was Sam's birthday. Bobby remembered hearing about it all from John right after it had happened, except John hadn't mentioned the missed birthday. John had called him, feeling guilty over having given his oldest son a spanking for stealing, hoping that Bobby would back him up on his decision to discipline his son in such a way. And Bobby had agreed with John, at first. He completely agreed that the boy needed to be punished to drive home the fact that stealing was not acceptable. He completely agreed until he heard the whole story from Dean a few days later.

John had dropped the boys off at his house before heading out on a hunt for a water wraith and Bobby immediately noticed that the boys were more subdued than normal. The newly turned four year old, who usually wouldn't stop talking until he fell asleep, was too quiet. And Dean looked as if he had lost all hope in the world. Or maybe just in his father.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby," Dean said in the most forlorn voice Bobby had ever heard him use.

"Hey, kid. Why don't you take your brother inside while I talk to your dad?"

Without another word, Dean took Sam's hand and led him into the house. Bobby turned his attention to John who was looking antsy and ready to go.

"John? What's wrong with your boys?"

"They're fine, Singer. It was just a long trip."

"Are you sure? I've never seen Dean look so down before."

"He's fine. You know how he gets after he's been punished. He's just a feeling a little put out about getting his butt handed to him."

"If you say so," Bobby answered, not wanting to get into it with John right before he left. Judging by both boys' behavior, though, there was more to the story than what he was being told.

John said a quick goodbye to his sons before heading out. Once he was gone, Bobby sent them upstairs to get cleaned up for lunch. A few minutes later, Sam and Dean returned to the kitchen and sat down at the small table.

"You boys hungry?" Bobby asked.

"I am!" Sam quickly yelled, bouncing on his seat for a few seconds before looking over at his brother. Once he saw that Dean was just staring quietly at the table, he sat back down and did the same.

"Dean? You hungry."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

Bobby desperately wanted to find out what had Dean so upset, but he knew better than to push the boy. Dean would talk when he was ready and not a second sooner.

"How about we eat up these sandwiches?" he said as he pulled out a plate of ham sandwiches he had made that morning. "And then you boys can go play with Rumsfeld."

"Who's Rums….uh, Ruffs….um, who's that?" Sam asked excitedly.

"My new puppy," Bobby said with a smile, knowing that the boy loved puppies.

"You got a new puppy?" Sam asked even more excitedly.

Bobby noticed that even Dean's eyes had lit up a little with the news of the new puppy. "Yeah, apparently that time Barker got out of the yard led to him making some puppies," Bobby said thinking about his old junkyard dog with a smile.

"Barker's a daddy?" Sam asked. And then, "Uncle Bobby? How do you make puppies?"

Bobby nearly choked on the bite of sandwich he had just taken and he quickly shot a glare over to Dean who was snickering into his napkin. "I think that's a subject for your dad to talk to you about, boy," he growled as he smacked Dean lightly on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?!" Dean yelped dramatically.

"Oh, you know what that was for, kid."

Dean grinned widely before taking a bite of his own sandwich and Bobby was happy to see it. _Maybe the boy_ _ **was**_ _just a little embarrassed that he had been spanked._

After lunch was over, Sam ran outside to play with the new puppy. Dean dutifully followed his little brother, trying to hide his own childish excitement from himself and his surrogate uncle. Bobby followed them out the door, not ready to let them out of his sight just yet.

They played with the new puppy for almost an hour before the puppy tired out and Sam started to get cranky. Bobby noticed that Dean was getting a little cranky, too, but he knew better than to suggest the kid take a nap. He thought that maybe it was worth a try to get Dean to take Sam up for a nap, hoping that the time it took him to get his little brother asleep, the boy would fall asleep himself.

Of course, that didn't work. Dean was upstairs for almost an hour, making Bobby think that he had indeed fallen asleep, when he heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Seconds later, he looked up to find Dean poking his head around the corner.

"Hey, kid. I thought maybe you fell asleep."

"No, sir," Dean answered quietly.

When he didn't make a move to step into the living room, Bobby cleared his throat and patted the seat next to him. Dean slowly stepped over to the couch and sat down next to his uncle.

"What's going on with you, boy?" Bobby asked. "You're not acting like yourself."

"Nothing's going on."

"Really? Because normally by this time you're knee deep in finding out what's new in the junkyard. You'd be talking my ear off about the cherry Mustang I just bought."

Dean didn't say anything, choosing instead to pull at a loose thread from a hole in the knee of his jeans.

"Dean. I know something's bothering you. You can talk to me, kid."

"I don't want to talk about it, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby waited for several minutes, watching the boy as he picked at the hole in his jeans, making it bigger with his efforts. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer. "Your dad told me what happened."

Dean's face suddenly turned red and his eyes filled with tears. "I hate him, Uncle Bobby."

"Hey, now…. I know that's not true. I know you're mad at him, but you don't hate him."

A few tears escaped Dean's eyes and made their way down his cheek. Bobby pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Dean didn't take it, though. Instead, he used his shirt sleeve to wipe the tears away.

"Can you tell me what happened? I heard your dad's version, but I'd like to hear yours, too."

"I took a candy bar from the motel desk. The guy caught me and told Dad. That's it."

"Why did you take the candy bar, Dean? It's not like you to steal, kid."

Dean was quiet again and eventually Bobby thought that he wasn't going to answer. He finally did, though.

"It was Sam's birthday, Uncle Bobby. I told Sam that Dad would be back for his birthday and that we would have a party. But Dad didn't show up. He called that morning and said that he wouldn't be home for another day. When I told Sammy, he started crying. I had to get him to stop crying."

"So, you took the candy bar for Sam?"

"Why else would I have taken it?!" Dean asked, as if the idea of him taking it for himself was completely preposterous. "It was Sam's birthday and he deserved something nice."

Bobby's heart broke a little at the thought that Dean felt like a candy bar was "something nice." No kid should ever see something as simple as a single candy bar as something so much bigger. _Of course, he didn't think that kids should be spoiled, but still…._

"Did your daddy give you a chance to explain yourself?"

"Yes, sir."

Bobby felt a surge of anger shoot through him at the thought that John still chose to punish his son after hearing his reasoning. He found it surprising, though, because he knew how John reacted when he felt like he had neglected his sons in some way. Had John known the reason behind Dean's theft, he would have felt too guilty to spank the boy.

"He gave you the chance, but did you take it? Did you tell your daddy why you stole the candy bar?"

"No, sir."

"Why not? Dean, you should have told him. It probably would have saved you from getting a spanking, kid."

"I didn't want him to feel bad, Uncle Bobby."

"Dean….."

"I know he didn't do it on purpose, Uncle Bobby. I know he forgot because he was on a hunt. That's more important and I know that. But, Sam doesn't. He's just a kid, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby's heart broke even further at that. He knew that Dean didn't see himself as a kid and that thought was almost too much for the old hunter to bear.

"So, you lied to your dad? Told him you took it because _you_ wanted it? Is that it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, you shouldn't have done that. Your dad deserved to know the truth." When Dean didn't say anything, he continued. "Does he know now that he forgot Sam's birthday?"

"I don't think so."

Bobby took off his baseball cap and ran his hand over his head. Sometimes he really felt like putting some buckshot in John Winchester's backside.

* * *

Bobby remembered how that had all turned out. By the next day, Dean was back to his normal self, having found it cathartic to unload his emotions onto someone else. And because Dean was no longer sad and withdrawn, Sam wasn't either. Suddenly, Sam was talking his ear off and Dean was playing pranks and checking out every car in the yard.

John had called the next day, obviously drunk and feeling guilty because he had suddenly realized what day it was and that he had missed Sam's birthday. He vowed to both of his boys to make it up to them when he returned and Bobby had no doubt that the man would live up to that promise. If anything could make John Winchester a good father, it was guilt.

Once he returned, John took Dean for a long walk and by the time they returned, Bobby could tell that John was once again Dean's hero. He only hoped that the man could maintain that title a little more easily in the future.

* * *

And now Bobby was taking care of Sam and Dean again, while John was on a hunting trip. The boys were three years older now, but still a handful. Bobby had to admit, though, that so far the boys had indeed been on their best behavior. Other than a few brotherly squabbles that were quickly nipped in the bud by a stern look, Sam and Dean had downright been little angels.

Of course, Bobby didn't expect that trend to continue for too much longer because he really didn't think either boy had it in him to stay out of trouble for too long. Especially Dean. He had heard whisperings between the two boys off and on through the week, knew it had something to do with a promise John had made to them if they were to behave while he was gone. It wasn't a usual thing for John to bribe his kids with rewards if they behaved themselves. That was definitely not the Winchester way. But, he imagined that even the great John Winchester wasn't above a well thought out bribe if it meant keeping the peace for a while.

He only hoped it worked.

As he sipped his morning coffee, he could hear the rustling that had started upstairs and started to prepare himself for the whirlwind that was just about to descend upon him. If he were a praying man, he might've even sent up a prayer for the boys he loved with all his heart.

* * *

Author's note: Enjoy. Thanks for reading.


	22. I Knew You Were Trouble

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 22

I Knew You Were Trouble

* * *

"Good morning, Uncle Bobby," Dean said as he entered the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

"How about some eggs and bacon?" Bobby asked, trying not to laugh at the way Dean's hair was sticking up in the back.

"And pancakes?" Sam piped up, entering the kitchen behind his brother.

"I'm all out of pancake mix, squirt. You'll have to make do with eggs and bacon until I can go to the store."

"But I want pancakes," Sam whined. Dean nudged him in the side with his elbow. "Ow! That hurt, Dean," he wailed. "Uncle Bobby, Dean hit me!"

"I didn't hit you, Sammy. I just elbowed you."

"Yeah, but it hurt!"

"Quit being a little baby. It didn't hurt that much." Dean was already annoyed with his little brother, who had been really grumpy since waking up.

"Uncle Bobby, Dean called me a baby!"

"Dean, quit calling your brother names," Bobby said throwing a side glance to the older brother. "And Sam, it's going to be a long day if you don't stop being so cranky."

Sam scowled at his surrogate uncle. "I'm not cranky. I'm just grouchy."

"That's the same thing, dummy," Dean laughed.

"Dean!" Bobby growled. "What did I just say?"

"Sorry, Uncle Bobby."

"It ain't me you need to apologize to, boy.

"Fine. Sorry, Sammy."

Sam continued to scowl at his brother, obviously not ready to forgive him yet. Bobby looked at the glares the boys were throwing at each other and realized that he needed to take control of the morning. "Okay, you two. Turn around and walk back up those stairs. When you're ready to act civilized, you can come back down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said quietly.

"Okay, Uncle Bobby," Sam answered. Both boys turned and walked out of the room with their heads hanging. Just as they reached the stairs, Sam turned back to Bobby. "Uncle Bobby? What does um…. What does that word mean?"

"It means when you're ready to act polite and well-mannered, kid."

"Like best behavior?" Sam asked, trying to understand.

"Yes. You're supposed to be on your best behavior, remember? I think you promised your daddy."

Sam's face fell at his words. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I forgot! Please don't tell Daddy."

Bobby felt a little bad that his words had caused Sam to panic a little. He also noticed that Dean was looking a little worried, too. "Listen, boys. Let's start over, okay? Come sit down and I'll get breakfast started."

Sam and Dean walked over to the table and sat down. Both boys looked a little relieved, but not completely convinced that they weren't still in trouble. Dean finally couldn't take it any longer and spoke up. "Are you going to tell Dad that we were fighting?"

"I don't see a need to get your dad involved when I can handle it myself, do you?" Bobby asked.

"No, sir," Dean and Sam answered at the same time.

"Okay, then. Dean, why don't you grab some glasses and fill 'em with milk. And Sammy? Do you wanna put some bread in the toaster?" Bobby knew it was always a good idea to keep the Winchester brothers occupied as much as possible. When both boys jumped up to do their tasks, Bobby settled in to scramble some eggs, thankful for the peace that had returned to the kitchen.

* * *

Unfortunately, that peace didn't last long. After breakfast was over, Sam and Dean cleaned the kitchen before being sent upstairs to brush their teeth. Bobby could hear the occasional squabble between the two brothers, but it wasn't anything that he felt he needed to get involved in.

Once they were done upstairs, they thundered down the stairs, slowing only when they saw the look Bobby was giving them. Bobby noticed that Sam still had a little bit of toothpaste on his lip and that Dean's hair was still sticking up a little in the back, but he didn't say anything. He was planning on doing some research for another hunter that would more than likely take all day, so he needed a plan for the boys.

"What are we doing today, Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked before he could come up with a plan.

"I need to do some research for someone, so I need you boys to occupy yourselves, okay? That means find something to do and behave yourselves. Keep the noise down to a dull roar, too."

Dean and Sam both turned around and ran out of the room. Bobby figured he should have laid down some ground rules before they left, but both boys knew what the rules were anyway.

It was almost an hour later when he noticed Dean standing in the doorway, staring at him.

"We're bored," Dean said. "There's nothing to do here."

"What do you mean there's nothing to do here? You boys always find something to do."

"Yeah, but Dad told us we weren't allowed to leave the yard."

"Dean, I don't have time for this," Bobby said, knowing that the research he was doing was needed as soon as possible. "Find something to do or I'll find some chores for you to do."

Dean knew that Bobby would find them some awful chore to do, and that was the last thing he wanted, so without a word he turned and walked back outside to Sam.

"What did he say?" Sam asked. "Did you ask him?"

"He's busy. We'll have to find something else to do, I guess."

"But there isn't anything else to do, Dean," Sam whined. "This is stupid!"

Dean couldn't agree more with his little brother, but he tried to distract Sam. "How about we just watch some more cartoons," he offered.

"I don't want to," Sam answered.

Dean didn't argue since he really didn't want to, either. He was tired of being cooped up inside. But with both his arm and leg still healing, there wasn't a lot that Dean could do. "Wanna kick the soccer ball around a little?"

"Okay." Sam ran off to the corner of the yard to find the soccer ball Bobby kept there for them. When he returned with it, he had a frown on his face. "It's all mushy," he said, holding up the partially deflated ball.

"It just needs a little air. Maybe Uncle Bobby has a pump we can use." Dean walked back into the house to ask Bobby, but unfortunately the man was having a heated conversation on the phone with someone. Dean waited for a few minutes, but eventually he gave up. Heading back outside, he prepared himself to face a bored, cranky little brother.

"Did he have one?" Sam asked the minute Dean stepped out onto the porch.

"I didn't get to ask him. He's on the phone."

Sam threw the ball down on the ground and kicked it back over to the corner of the yard. "Now what?" he asked.

Dean looked around the yard and then out into the salvage yard. He spied one of the many sheds on Bobby's property and decided maybe he could take a look for the pump in there.

"Just a second, Sammy. I'm gonna go take a look in the shed."

"We're not supposed to go in there, Dean," Sam immediately said. "Daddy and Uncle Bobby said so."

"Come on, Sam. Do you wanna play with the soccer ball or not? And I'm just gonna peek in the door, that's all. You stay here and if Uncle Bobby comes out, signal me, okay?"

"How am I supposed to signal you?"

"I don't know. Just make some noise or something," Dean answered tersely.

Sam watched as Dean made his way slowly over to the shed. Technically, the shed was right at the edge of the yard, so Dean really wasn't breaking that rule. And if he only opened the door and looked in, he wouldn't be breaking that rule, either. At least, that's what he was telling himself.

Once Dean made it to the shed, he pulled open the heavy door and peeked in. The last time he had been in this particular shed had been the day his dad had punished him for slipping out on his teacher at school. A small blush lit up his cheeks at that rather unpleasant memory. Quickly pushing away those thoughts, he peered into the shed, looking around as much as he could from the doorway. Unfortunately, he couldn't really see much from that vantage point, so without hesitation he stepped inside the shed.

Once he was standing in the center of the shed, he looked all around him, hoping to find an air pump just sitting out in the open somewhere. He didn't, of course. Eventually, he stepped over to the shelving unit that was taking up the complete back wall of the shed. He looked over each shelf thoroughly and he finally found what looked like an old air pump. Unfortunately, it was on the highest shelf. _Wasn't that just his luck…_

Dean looked around for a ladder or a step stool, but he didn't see one anywhere. He thought about just turning around and leaving the shed, but the air pump was just sitting right there on the shelf, about six feet above him. Not ready to give up just yet, Dean stepped over to the shelf and started to climb it. He figured if he could climb up to the third shelf, he would probably be able to reach up and grab the pump. Of course, nothing ever seemed to go as planned for Dean Winchester.

He had made his way up to the third shelf without any problems, but when he reached up to grab the air pump, he felt himself starting to slip. Just as he was slipping and trying desperately to grab onto something, he heard Sam yelling at the top of his lungs, but before Dean really had time to process what that meant, he fell backwards.

Dean fell hard to the concrete floor of the shed, the breath knocked completely out of him upon impact. He didn't have time to think about anything, though, because he realized that the shelving unit looked like it was starting to tip over. Within a second, he was scrambling backwards, trying to get out of the way of the overturning shelf. He just made it to the door of the shed when the shelving unit hit the floor, its contents scattering everywhere with a loud bang.

Sam watched as Dean walked over to the shed, opened the door to look in, and then walked through the door. He knew that they would be in big trouble if Uncle Bobby found out they were in one of the sheds. Uncle Bobby expected them to obey his rules just as much as their father did.

Sam waited nervously for Dean to reappear. Just as he was thinking about going over to the shed to see what was happening, several things happened at once.

The front door opened and Uncle Bobby stepped out onto the porch, looking around for the boys. Spying Sam, he quickly looked around for Dean.

"Sam? Where's your brother?"

Sam didn't answer his surrogate uncle. Instead, he immediately yelled out "Oompa Loompa" as loudly as he could. Seconds later, a loud bang sounded from the shed, followed by the sounds of clanking and clanging. The door to the shed suddenly opened and Dean stumbled out backwards, trying to maintain his balance and not fall to the ground.

"Dean!" Bobby and Sam yelled at the same time as they made their way over to the boy.

Bobby was the first one there and he quickly grabbed Dean, checking him out from head to toe.

"Are you okay?" he frantically asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly. "I'm okay, Uncle Bobby."

"You're not hurt anywhere?" Bobby looked him over from head to toe again, not quick to believe that the boy hadn't been hurt somehow.

"No, sir," Dean answered.

"What the hell happened?" Bobby asked, now looking between Dean and the door to his shed.

Dean fidgeted uncomfortably in the grasp that Bobby had on his arms. "I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I didn't mean to do it."

"Do what?" Bobby was still trying desperately to figure out what had happened.

"I, uh…. I knocked over your shelf," Dean admitted. "Everything came crashing down."

Bobby stepped over to the shed and looked inside. Seconds later, he returned to Dean, looking him over again. "Damn it, boy," he growled. "And you're sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm sure," Dean answered miserably.

Bobby looked over at Sam, whose face was as pale as a ghost. Turning his attention back to Dean, he grabbed his arm and steered him towards the house. "Inside, boys," he said firmly.

Dean and Sam looked at each other before scurrying back towards the house.

* * *

Bobby followed the boys back into the house, trying to figure out how to handle what had just happened. He knew that both boys were expecting to be punished and he knew he could handle this in two different ways.

He could dole out the punishments himself, since it was his shed Dean had ruined and his rules they had broken. But they had also broken John's rules. And John's rules were not to be broken. The worst part of the situation was that if John found out what the boys had gotten up to, he would punish them himself. Even if Bobby had already punished them.

Or he could just let John deal with them all together. After all, they were _his_ boys.

Once he entered the house, he followed the boys into the living room. Dean sat down on the couch and Sam sat down as close to him as he could without touching. Bobby watched as Dean pulled Sam even closer, his arm wrapping around his brother's small shoulders.

Bobby looked down at Dean. "Wanna tell me what you were doing in the shed?"

Dean pulled his eyes up to look at Bobby, knowing it was expected of him. "I was looking for the air pump."

"And were you supposed to be in the shed?"

"No, sir."

"Why didn't you come and ask me about the pump? I would have found one for you and this all could have been avoided."

"I tried to, Uncle Bobby. But you were on the phone."

"And you couldn't wait until I got off the phone?" he asked heatedly.

Dean didn't have an answer for that.

"And what was your part in this, Sam?" Bobby asked as he looked over at Sam.

"He didn't have anything to do with it, Uncle Bobby. It was all me." Dean said, trying to keep Sam from getting into trouble.

"Oh, really. So he just goes around yelling "Oompa Loompa" for no reason at all? Because if you ask me, that sounded a lot like a code word for something. Something like "he's coming, get out of there."

"Uncle Bobby, it was my idea. Please don't be mad at Sammy."

"Sammy made up his own mind to take part in your plan, Dean. He knew he'd be in trouble if you were caught. Right, Sam?"

"Yes, Uncle Bobby," Sam answered quietly.

"Dean, why do you think your dad and I said to stay out of the sheds?"

"Because you don't want us messing with your stuff?" Dean asked as he picked at a hangnail.

"No, boy! We don't want you in there because it's not safe! There are things in there that could hurt you."

"I wasn't planning on touching anything, Uncle Bobby. Honest! I was just gonna grab the air pump and get out."

"But that's not what you did, Dean. You obviously touched something if the whole shelf tipped over."

"I'm sorry!"

"I'm tired of hearing you say you're sorry, boy!" Bobby suddenly found himself yelling. "I want you to do what you're supposed to do and not do the things you're not supposed to do."

By this time, both Sam and Dean were looking anywhere but at Bobby. Bobby stared down at both boys, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. He was ready to get this over with and get back to the mountain of research he had left to do.

"Sam, come here," he suddenly commanded. Sam looked up at Dean before sliding down from the couch and walking over to where Bobby stood.

"Uncle Bobby, please…." Dean said, trying again to save Sam from being punished. Bobby ignored him.

"Sam, the next time your brother does something that you know is gonna get him in trouble you need to step back. You're both responsible for your own choices and if you decide to go along with him just remember that his trouble becomes your trouble. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

Without another word, Bobby turned Sam to the side and landed five hard swats to his backside. Once he was done, he pulled Sam into a hug and rubbed his back for several long seconds. Once Sam had calmed down a bit, Bobby stepped back.

"Head on upstairs for a while, Sammy. I need to talk to your brother."

Sam threw a sad look over to his brother and then turned and left the room. Bobby turned back to Dean who looked like he was trying to melt into the couch. His heart lurched at the sight, hating to see the boy look so unsure of himself. Dean's confidence in himself was usually far above that of any other eleven year old. Unless he was in trouble. He knew how much the kid hated to disappoint anyone, too. Especially his father.

"Dean, listen to me," he said as he sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of the boy. "You messed up, kid. You made a mistake and all I ask is that you learn from it. Your dad and I…. these rules we put down for you boys…. We do it to keep you safe. Nothing is more important to your dad and me than to keep both of you safe. You understand that, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You could have really hurt yourself, kid. How do you think that would make me feel? I'm supposed to be watching you, protecting you. Think about how your dad and brother would feel if you were really hurt. Or if you died."

"I didn't mean to do it," Dean answered sullenly.

"That's not the point. The point is that you need to start thinking about what you're doing, boy. Especially when you have your little brother watching every move you make. Sam looks up to you. If he sees you making these kinds of choices, he'll do the same thing." Bobby knew that if anything could get through to Dean it was bringing Sam into the picture.

"I never thought of that," Dean answered.

"Well, it's time you started," Bobby said. "Now, what are we going to do about this situation?"

"I don't know," Dean answered, his attention back on the hangnail he had been picking at earlier.

"Don't you? Because I'm pretty sure you knew what to expect if you got caught. Right?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered miserably.

"Okay, then. What do you say we get this over with?" Bobby motioned for Dean to come to him and waited patiently for Dean to gather the strength to do what he had to do.

* * *

Later that evening, Bobby sent the boys to bed early. They had both been rather subdued for most of the day and by the time dinner was over they were all ready for the day to be over. After they both took a bath and brushed their teeth, they climbed into bed. Dean was in the middle of reading his brother a story when Bobby came to check on them.

"You boys ready to call it a night?" he asked as he went over to check the salt lines on the windows.

"I'm not tired, Uncle Bobby," Sam answered.

"Yeah, well I am," Bobby answered back. "And we need to do some shopping tomorrow, so we're going to get up early to get your training done."

"I don't want to do training," Sam whined.

"Can't we just skip training tomorrow, Uncle Bobby? Sleep in a little?" This coming from Dean.

"You slept in this morning," Bobby said. "And if you're daddy found out I let you skip two days of training, he'd probably shoot me."

Sam and Dean laughed at his words. Once they stopped laughing, Dean turned seriously to his uncle. "Uncle Bobby? Are you going to…."

"Am I going to what?" Bobby asked when Dean didn't continue.

"Are you going to tell Dad about today?"

"I haven't made up my mind about that yet," Bobby answered truthfully.

"Okay," Dean answered somewhat dejectedly.

"Okay, you boys settle down now and go to sleep. If I hear a single peep out of you, we'll start tomorrow off with a two mile run. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," they both sounded off at the same time.

As he turned off the light and started to close the door, he heard Dean call out a small "peep" followed by Sam giggling loudly and Dean shushing him.

Bobby closed the door with a smile and walked into his bedroom, thinking about how much he loved those boys. Even if they drove him crazy some days.

* * *

Author's note: I would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks for reading and reviewing.


	23. Every Little Thing

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 23

Every Little Thing

* * *

The next few days went by without incident. Dean and Sam were once again on their best behavior, hoping to impress on their Uncle Bobby that they had indeed learned their lesson and that there was no need to tell their father what had happened. Bobby hadn't completely made up his mind yet about whether or not he would tell John, but he was definitely leaning towards not.

A few mornings after the shed incident, Dean and Sam woke up as soon as Bobby knocked on their door. They immediately jumped out of bed and threw on their training clothes before rushing down to the kitchen.

"Mornin', boys," Bobby said as he sat at the table, sipping his coffee.

"Mornin', Uncle Bobby," both boys answered simultaneously.

Dean headed over to the door, motioning for Sam to follow him.

"Where are you going, Dean?" Bobby asked, surprised when they didn't sit down for breakfast.

Dean turned around and looked at Bobby, confusion written on his face. "Me and Sammy are going on our run, remember? Two miles, you said."

"If I remember right, I said you had to run if you didn't settle down. Seems to me you boys settled down and went to sleep after I left."

Sam and Dean shared a look, but quickly sat down at the table. They definitely weren't going to argue with the man. If he didn't think they had to run, they weren't going to run.

"What's for breakfast?" Dean asked eagerly.

"I was thinking maybe we could just eat some oatmeal before we start your training. After we're done, we can maybe grab some burgers before we buy groceries. How does that sound?"

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed. "Burgers!"

Sam looked less excited about the burgers, but didn't mind the oatmeal. He watched as Bobby stood up and started filling their bowls from the pot on the stove. Once he had his bowl sitting in front of him, he stirred in a little bit of brown sugar and cinnamon. Dean grabbed the brown sugar and dumped way too much on his oatmeal, causing Bobby to eye him closely.

"Sorry," Dean said with a grin. "It slipped."

"You better watch it, boy. My hand just my slip, too, and smack your backside."

Dean grinned even more, not believing Bobby's empty threat. He did pour the cinnamon a little more carefully, though.

"What kind of training are we doing this morning, Uncle Bobby," he asked, his mouth full of oatmeal.

"Ewwww, that's disgusting, Dean," Sam cried.

"Sorry," Dean answered, his mouth still full of food.

"Dean, don't speak with your mouth full," Bobby scolded.

Dean swallowed before giving Bobby a soft "sorry".

"After your morning PT, John wanted you boys to practice your sparring. And he wants you to do some target shooting, Dean."

"Can I shoot, too?" Sam asked.

"Not today, kid. Your daddy wants to be here for your first time."

Sam looked annoyed at that, but he didn't say anything. He just put his focus back on his oatmeal.

"Okay, boys. Let's get going. We're burning daylight."

Dean and Sam quickly ate the rest of their oatmeal and then put their dishes in the sink. Once they were done, they ran upstairs to get dressed and brush their teeth. Once they were done with that, they headed back down to the kitchen where Bobby was waiting on them with their jackets. Seconds later, they were outside, sparring under the watchful eye of Bobby Singer.

* * *

The trip to the grocery store went as well as could be expected with a seven year old and an eleven year old. Bobby only had to threaten the boys a few times to keep them in line, especially after he promised them ice cream if they could make it in and out of the store in twenty minutes. The biggest argument they had was whether or not they should get Lucky Charms or Froot Loops. Lucky Charms won, of course, thanks to Dean finally being able to convince his brother that they were better.

Once they were back home, the boys carried in the groceries and Bobby put them away. Once that was done, he sent the boys out to play, giving them instructions to stay out of the sheds and in the yard. Dean looked at him guiltily as he pulled Sam outside.

After almost an hour of playing in the yard, the boys were bored and decided to go back into the house. Bobby was in his study, talking on the phone with another hunter, so they decided to watch television. By the time dinner was ready, they had watched the first and second Indiana Jones movies and Sam was getting tired.

By the time dinner was over, Sam was fighting off yawn after yawn, his eyes watering in response. Dean had been looking forward to watching another movie, but he could tell that Sam wasn't going to last that long. He could also tell that something seemed to be bothering Bobby, who had been on the phone for the last hour.

After clearing the table, Dean led his little brother into the living room, settled him on the couch, and turned on the television. He was surprised when Bobby followed them into the room.

"Maybe Sam should go to bed," Bobby said after he noticed how tired the boy was.

"I don't wanna go to bed," Sam answered sleepily. "I wanna watch a movie with Dean."

"You can barely keep your eyes open, kid. And it's been a long day."

"Please, Uncle Bobby?" Sam looked up at Bobby with his fullest, hardest to ignore puppy dog look. Dean nearly laughed at the look on Sam's face, knowing that Bobby wouldn't be able to resist him. Sam's pouty look was irresistible to everyone, except maybe John Winchester.

"Okay, you can stay up for one more hour and that's it," Bobby conceded. "Then it's off to bed for both of you."

"That's not fair," Dean immediately responded. "I'm not even tired, Uncle Bobby. And it's only eight o'clock."

"An hour, Dean," Bobby growled. "Or you can just go now."

Dean settled down next to Sam, putting all of his attention into finding something to watch on the television. He was relieved when Bobby turned and walked back to his study. That relief was short-lived, however, because several minutes later, he heard Bobby yelling at someone through the phone. Dean turned to his brother and was happy to see that the boy was engrossed in the show they were watching.

"I'll be right back, Sammy," Dean said as he stood up. "I'm gonna go see if there's any popcorn."

Sam didn't take his eyes off of the television as Dean made his way over to the door of the study. The door was only half closed, so he snuck up and put his ear to the crack. He could hear Bobby pacing in the small room and could now clearly hear what the man was saying. Whoever Bobby was talking to was getting an earful from the man and Dean felt a little sorry for them.

"What do you mean you don't know what happened? Where is he now?" Bobby asked angrily. And then, "How did you guys get separated? How did you let that happen?"

Dean wished he could hear whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying. Someone was missing and he really wanted to know who it was. As he listened further, he started to get a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. _What if they were talking about his dad? What if something had happened to him?_

Dean listened even more closely, hoping to hear something, anything that would put his mind at ease. He was just about convinced that Bobby wasn't talking about his father when he heard something that nearly stopped his heart.

""The boys are fine, Caleb. Just focus on finding their father!"

Once those words sank in, Dean couldn't stop himself from stepping through the door, stopping once he was directly in front of Bobby. "What happened to my dad?" he immediately asked. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

Bobby, who had nearly jumped out of his skin when the boy flew through the door, quickly put down the phone before dealing with Dean. Because he was reluctant to let Dean know the truth, he lashed out in anger at the boy.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean? Were you eavesdropping again?"

"Where's my dad?" Dean asked without hesitation. "Did something happen to him?"

Bobby walked around his desk and stopped in front of Dean, grabbing the boy by the shoulders. "You have no business listening into my private conversations, boy," he growled angrily. "We've had this conversation before."

Dean wasn't about to give up. "Uncle Bobby, where's my dad?"

Bobby let go of Dean and anxiously took off his baseball cap, running his hands over his face and head. He eyed the boy closely, knowing that he was going to have to tell Dean what he knew. The boy wouldn't give up if he didn't.

"Dean, I don't exactly know yet what's going on. Caleb and your dad got separated on the hunt and that's all I know so far."

"Where were they? What were they hunting?" Dean immediately asked.

Before Bobby could answer, they heard Sam calling for his brother from the living room. "Dean! What are you doing? You're missing all the good parts," Sam yelled.

Dean didn't look like he was about to answer his little brother until Bobby talked him into it. "Dean, this isn't something that Sam needs to be worrying about. Let's get him in bed and then I'll explain to you what I know, okay?"

Dean wasn't ready to give in yet, but he didn't want to worry Sam, either. Turning around, he went back into the living room, hoping to be able to talk Sam into going to bed.

"Uncle Bobby is out of popcorn, Sammy," he said once he sat down next to his brother.

"That's okay. I wasn't really hungry anyway," Sam admitted. Looking up at his brother, he noticed a strange look on his face. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I guess I'm just more tired than I thought."

Sam, who had been trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, quickly agreed with Dean. "Me, too. We can go to bed, if you want," he offered.

Dean quickly agreed before Sam changed his mind. Minutes later, they had turned off the television, cleaned up the living room a little bit, and then made their way upstairs. Dean stopped in the doorway of the study to tell Bobby that they were going to bed. Bobby promised to be up soon to say goodnight, so Dean turned and led his little brother upstairs. Deciding to forego their usual bath that night, Dean quickly ushered Sam into bed and turned out the lights before climbing in next to him.

"What about my story, Dean?" Sam asked loudly, his voice echoing in the small room.

"Can we skip it tonight?" Dean asked. "I'm really tired, Sammy."

"Okay," Sam agreed reluctantly. "But that means you owe me two tomorrow night."

"Deal," Dean answered before turning over and pretending to go to sleep. He could feel Sam rolling over and trying to get comfortable. After several minutes, the boy stopped moving and his breathing quickly evened out. Once Dean was convinced that Sam was asleep, he gently rolled over and rose from the bed. With one last look at Sam, he quietly turned and walked back downstairs.

* * *

Bobby waited for Dean to return, hoping that by some miracle the boy would fall asleep while he was waiting for his brother to fall asleep. He wasn't surprised, though, when he heard the sound of Dean's footsteps on the stairs. Dean was the epitome of persistence when he wanted to be.

The boy had barely stepped through the door when the questions started. As much as Bobby wanted to protect Dean and keep him from finding out what was going on, he knew he had to tell him the truth. If he kept this from the boy, he would undoubtedly do something stupid that would land him in a lot of trouble.

"Sit down," he said as he pointed to the couch. Dean immediately sat down and looked expectantly up at him. "Your daddy and Caleb finished the hunt in Tennessee. On their way back here, they stumbled on another hunt just about a hundred miles from here. Things went a little crazy and the two of them got separated. Caleb made it back to the truck, but there hasn't been any sign of your daddy."

"But Caleb's looking for him? He didn't just leave him out there, right?"

"Caleb's looking for him. And I sent a few more hunters to help him look. They'll find your daddy, boy. I promise."

"You can't promise that, Uncle Bobby. It's a hunt. Dad always says that anything could happen on a hunt. Anything!" By this time, Dean was working himself up into a ball of anxiety, his imagination running away wildly.

"Dean! Take a deep breath, son. Just breathe." Bobby stood up and walked over to Dean. The boy's breaths were coming in short gasps. "Calm down, boy," Bobby said as he started rubbing Dean's back.

After several deep breaths, Dean's breathing started to return to normal. He didn't even try to stop the tears that were falling down his face, knowing that Bobby wouldn't think any less of him for the fact that he was crying.

"What are we gonna do if they can't find him, Uncle Bobby? What if he's really hurt or…or something?"

"We'll find him."

Bobby spent the next few minutes calmly rubbing Dean's back. He could tell that Dean was getting sleepy, but he doubted the kid would agree to go back to bed just yet. Instead, Bobby sat down on the couch next to Dean and pulled him into his side. Together, they sat there quietly, each lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

The next few days were hell for all of them. Sam had no idea what was going on, but he could tell that something was upsetting his brother. Even Uncle Bobby seemed upset about something, although he was a lot more patient with Sam than his brother was.

After the third time of Dean yelling at Sam to leave him alone, Sam did just that. Dean spent every day sitting out on the front porch, not doing anything but staring at the empty driveway. Sam spent his time in the house, either reading or watching television. He missed his brother, but he knew that Dean just wanted to be left alone.

Eventually, after the fourth meal where Dean barely ate anything, Sam couldn't take it anymore. Dean left the dinner table to return to the front porch, so Sam decided to try to find out what was wrong.

"Uncle Bobby? What's wrong with Dean?"

"What do you mean, squirt?" Bobby asked, trying to figure out how to avoid the conversation.

"I think he's sick," Sam answered.

"What makes you think he's sick?"

"He's not eating, Uncle Bobby. And Dean always eats. He didn't even want pie last night, remember? He's acting funny."

"I'm sure he's fine, Sam. Maybe he just wasn't in the mood for pie."

"Dean's _always_ in the mood for pie, Uncle Bobby. _Always!_ "

"He'll be okay, Sam. Maybe he just needs a little time to himself."

Sam didn't look too pleased with that answer, but he really couldn't argue. Sometimes Dean did need a little time to himself, so Sam figured he just had to wait him out.

* * *

Bobby was starting to grow a little concerned about Dean, as well. The kid hadn't eaten a decent meal in two days and the last two night's sleep had been disturbed by Dean's nightmares. He had dark circles under his eyes and he hadn't spoken more than absolutely necessary since finding out that John was missing. Bobby knew that something had to change soon or else.

The next morning at breakfast, Dean sat at the table, twirling his spoon around in the bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Bobby watched him for several minutes, taking in the fact that the boy had yet to take a single bite.

"You need to eat your breakfast, Dean," he finally said. "Stop playing with it and take a bite."

Dean looked like he was about to argue, but put a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth instead. He never took his eyes off the bowl in front of him. Bobby poured milk into the boy's glass and wasn't surprised when he didn't touch it.

Sam had been watching the whole scene silently as he ate his own oatmeal. He watched as Dean took the bite of oatmeal, but then returned to swirling his spoon around. He could tell that Bobby was getting a little annoyed with his brother, too. Finally, Bobby couldn't take it anymore.

"Damn it, Dean! I'm not gonna sit here all morning and tell you to take a bite every few minutes. Finish your oatmeal and your glass of milk, boy. That's an order."

Dean looked up at Bobby for a few seconds, but then returned his gaze back to the bowl of oatmeal. Bobby was relieved to see him take another bite. Several minutes later, Dean's bowl was empty and his glass was drained. After getting permission to be excused, he stood up and walked back out to the porch. Bobby and Sam both breathed a sigh of tentative relief.

* * *

It was almost two o'clock in the morning when Bobby woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. He immediately grabbed it, not wanting it to wake the boys. Before he could say hello, he heard Caleb's voice loudly on the other end.

"Bobby! We found him, but he's in bad shape. We should be there in about an hour. Get the first aid kit ready. He's gonna need some stitchin' up."

Bobby didn't waste any time asking any more questions. Caleb's short sentences told him everything he needed to know. Throwing on his jeans and a t-shirt, Bobby made his way down to the kitchen. He had his biggest first aid kit down there and he quickly pulled it out and started setting up all of the supplies he figured he would need. Just as he finished setting up, he heard a noise behind him. Turning to look, he wasn't surprised to see Dean standing in the doorway.

"Uncle Bobby? What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

Bobby thought about sending the kid back to bed, but knew it wouldn't work. Dean had already taken in the sight of the first aid kit opened up and the extra towels that were placed nearby.

"They found your daddy," he said simply.

"Is he okay?"

"Caleb said he's hurt, Dean. Said he's gonna need some stitchin' up."

"But he's okay?"

"We'll have to wait and see, kid. They should be here in about half an hour now."

Bobby didn't miss the way Dean's face paled at the news. The last thing he needed was for the boy to freak out when he saw the state of his father, so Bobby knew he needed to have a quick talk with him.

"Listen, Dean…. when they bring your daddy in, things are gonna be a little crazy. I need you to stay out of the way, do you understand?"

"I can help," Dean answered. "I've helped him before."

"I know you can help, Dean, but I'm gonna need you to stay out of the way this time. I promise if I need your help, I'll tell you, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

Bobby hated how scared the kid looked at the moment, but knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He tried to prepare Dean for what he was about to see, but unfortunately, nothing could have prepared either of them for the sorry state of the man Caleb and another hunter carried into the house.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the little cliffhanger. I'll hopefully have another chapter up soon, so you won't be hanging on the cliff for too long. Thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys are all amazing.


	24. Shattered

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 24

Shattered

* * *

Dean watched in horror as Caleb and another man he didn't know carried his father into Bobby's house. He was surprised when they carried him into the kitchen and laid him out on the table. _The same table they had just eaten their dinner at a few hours ago. The same table Sam sat at when he was drawing his pictures._

Dean couldn't take his eyes off of his father's body. The man that he looked up to every day of his life- that always seemed invincible to him- looked so small on the table. He didn't even really look like his dad. In fact, if Dean didn't trust the word of Bobby and Caleb, he would have argued that the man really wasn't his father, that they must have made a mistake and that his father was still out there somewhere, waiting to be rescued.

Bobby, Caleb, and the other hunter, who Dean figured out was a man named Bill Harvelle, worked seamlessly together. The two younger hunters waited for Bobby to tell them what to do and then wasted no time in getting it done. Bobby moved around the table, examining John from every angle, determining what wound he wanted to treat first. Barely a word was said by anyone but Bobby, whose orders echoed loudly in the small kitchen.

Eventually, Dean made his way over to the left side of the table, inching himself closer and closer to his father until Bobby noticed.

"Dean! Step back!" Bobby growled when he accidentally stepped on the boy's foot.

Dean scrambled backwards, not stopping until his back was up against the far counter. His knees threatened to buckle, so he leaned his elbows on the counter to support himself. His heart was pounding erratically and his chest was heaving with his gasped breaths, leaving him feeling light-headed and dizzy.

"Uncle Bobby…" he started, but quickly cut himself off.

Bobby looked over at him, taking in the paleness of his face and realizing that the boy was barely holding it together. He knew that he needed to distract Dean somehow to make him focus his attention on something more than the disturbing state of John Winchester.

"Caleb, move over and let Dean hold pressure on that wound." Bobby watched as Caleb motioned for Dean to come over to the table. Dean hesitated for a split second, but then he pushed himself off the counter and stepped over to where Caleb was holding pressure on a wound on his father's head.

"Here you go, Dean. Put your hand right here and keep pressure on it. Don't let up, okay?"

Dean didn't answer as he took over holding pressure on the wound. Once Caleb stepped away, Dean looked down at his dad, finally getting his first real look at the man. He didn't like what he saw. His dad's face was pale and when he reached down, he realized that John's skin was cold and clammy. He was surprised when something dripped onto his dad's face and even more surprised when he realized that it was a tear falling from his eye.

"Hold on, Dad," Dean said quietly, his voice breaking on the last word. "Just hold on, okay? Uncle Bobby's gonna fix you up."

Bobby and Caleb exchanged a quick look before turning back to the task at hand. With Dean's attention occupied, they found it easier to deal with John's more significant wounds before turning to the lesser wounds that littered his body. By the time they were done stitching up and dressing up the last wound, several hours had passed and they were all exhausted.

Caleb and Bill carried John over to the couch in the living room, setting him down as gently as they could. Neither of them missed the quiet groan that escaped John. Fortunately, Dean didn't seem to hear it.

After they stepped back from the couch, Dean immediately moved over to the couch, planting himself firmly on the floor next to it. Caleb and Bill stepped out of the room and back towards the kitchen to start the cleaning up process that was sure to take at least an hour. Bobby eyed Dean closely, wondering just how he was going to get the boy to leave his father's side.

"Dean, why don't you go get washed up and try to get some sleep?"

"I'm staying here, Uncle Bobby," Dean answered, determinedly.

"Dean, you have blood all over your shirt and arms."

Dean didn't answer. He just settled himself even more resolutely next to his father. Bobby stepped over and gently grabbed the boy by his arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Let me go!" Dean yelled, causing Bobby to immediately release his hold.

"Lower your voice, boy," Bobby growled, his exhaustion finally getting the better of him. "You don't wanna wake your brother, do you?"

Dean looked up at him guiltily, knowing that he definitely didn't want to wake up Sam. Once Bobby realized that Dean was listening to him, he tried again.

"Listen, Dean…. I know you want to stay with your daddy, but you need to get some sleep. He's going to be sleeping for at least the next eight hours, so we all need to try to rest. And you don't want Sam to wake up and find you gone, do you?" When Dean didn't argue, Bobby continued. "Head on upstairs and get cleaned up, boy. And then get some sleep."

Dean reluctantly stood up and faced Bobby. "Promise you'll wake me up if anything changes? Or if he wakes up?"

"I promise," Bobby finally conceded.

Without another word, Dean made his way to the stairs, his steps heavier than Bobby had ever heard them.

* * *

It was almost nine o'clock in the morning when Bobby started hearing activity coming from the bedroom Sam and Dean were sharing. He figured it was probably Sam moving around, since Dean had only been in bed for about three hours. Making his way up the stairs in an effort to intercept Sam, he stopped outside of the bedroom door, listening closely to the activity within the room. He was hoping that Dean was still sleeping, but he wasn't holding out hope that it would last that long. The kid was notoriously a light sleeper.

Opening the door, he found Sam rummaging around in the dresser, trying to find some clothes to wear. He cleared his throat quietly, and when Sam turned to look at him, he held a finger up to his lip and looked over at Dean. He hoped that Sam would pick up on the fact that he wanted to let Dean sleep a little longer.

Once he knew that Sam understood what he wanted, he motioned for Sam to come out of the room. Sam quickly forgot his search for clothes and headed over to the door. Seconds later, he stepped out of the room and followed Bobby down the hall. Once they were in Bobby's room, Sam finally spoke.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby," he said with a smile.

"Hey, kid." Bobby knew that he needed to talk to Sam about what had happened, but he really didn't know where to start. He didn't want to scare the kid, but he knew he couldn't keep the boy cooped up in his room all day. Sam was eventually going to find out that his father was back anyway. Motioning for Sam to take a seat on his bed, Bobby prepared himself to shatter the little boy's world a bit.

"I need to talk to you about something, Sam," he started, as he took a seat on the bed next to him.

"I didn't do anything, Uncle Bobby. I swear! And neither did Dean."

Bobby smiled at Sam's instantaneous declaration of innocence, wondering if the boy was feeling guilty about something. "Well, that's good to know, kid. But that's not what I need to talk to you about."

By this time, Sam was looking at him curiously. "Did something happen?" he asked.

"Your dad came home last night, while you were sleeping," he started, but was quickly interrupted by Sam jumping off the bed and heading toward the door. Bobby immediately reached out and grabbed the boy by the sleeve of his pajama top. "Wait a minute, kid," he stated firmly, pulling Sam back to him and depositing him back onto the bed.

"Let me go," Sam demanded. "I wanna see Daddy, Uncle Bobby."

"Sam, listen to me for a minute." When he finally felt like he had Sam's attention, he continued. "Your daddy's been hurt, Sam. He had an accident on the job he was doing and he's banged up pretty bad."

"Daddy's hurt?"

"Yeah, but he'll be okay, kid. He just needs some time to get better."

"Like Dean did after that bad man took us?"

"Yep, just like that. So, that means that you're gonna have to give him some space, okay? No jumping on him and no rambunctious behavior."

Sam's face scrunched up in confusion. "What does that mean?" he asked.

"That means that we need to let him rest. That means that you don't go near him unless I tell you you can. That means that you and Dean will need to find a way to keep yourself busy that doesn't include you running around the house or yelling at each other."

Sam now looked worried. "Can I see him? I won't bother him, Uncle Bobby. I promise. I just want to see him."

"I tell you what…. You get yourself cleaned up and make your bed first. Then come downstairs and get some breakfast. After breakfast, you can peek in on your dad. How does that sound?"

"Okay," Sam answered. He jumped off the bed and made his way over to the door, but turned back at the last minute. "Uncle Bobby? Dean's going to be upset when he finds out that Daddy's hurt."

"You let me worry about your brother, okay? In the meantime, I want you to let him sleep in a little. Don't wake him up. Got it?"

"Got it," Sam whispered loudly.

Once Sam was gone, Bobby stood up, wearily readying himself to go back downstairs. He looked at his bed longingly, wishing that he could stretch out on it for just a few minutes. Unfortunately, Caleb and Bill had already left to finish the hunt John had been on, leaving him to take care of the three Winchesters all by himself. _He definitely had his work cut out for him._

* * *

When Dean finally woke up, his head was hurting and he felt like he might be sick. It took him almost a full minute to wake himself up enough to remember what had happened, but once he remembered, he shot out of bed like a rocket. Looking over at his brother's bed, he was surprised to see that Sam wasn't there and that the bed had already been made. Usually, Sam was so noisy when he was moving about the room and he always woke up his brother.

Not bothering to change out of his pajamas, Dean immediately made his way over to the door and then to the stairs, taking them two at a time. Bobby, who had been in the kitchen when he heard the sounds of Dean's thundering steps, quickly moved to intercept the boy.

"Dean Winchester! What do you think you're doing?!" he practically yelled, causing Dean to come to a complete stop on the next to last step.

"How's Dad?" Dean asked without hesitation.

"Calm down, boy," Bobby growled. "How many times have you been told not to run in the house?"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I just wanted to check on Dad."

"He's asleep. And he's going to stay that way, so get into the kitchen and get yourself some lunch."

Instead of turning towards the kitchen, Dean turned towards the living room, intent on checking on his dad. Bobby immediately grabbed him by the back of his neck, halting his forward motion. "I said get into the kitchen and get yourself some lunch," he repeated in a low voice.

"Uncle Bobby…."

"Now, Dean! Don't make me have to carry you in there, because if you do, I'll throw you over my shoulder and paddle your backside the whole way."

Dean knew that Bobby wouldn't hesitate to do just that, so with another quick glance towards the living room, he turned back to the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to see his brother sitting at the kitchen table, and he suddenly felt his stomach turn at the too recent memory of his father's bloody body stretched out on that same table.

"Dean!" Sam whispered loudly, happy to see his brother finally awake. "I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"What time is it?" Dean asked, finally realizing that Bobby had mentioned lunch instead of breakfast.

"It's almost one o'clock," Bobby answered. "You slept right through breakfast, kid."

Dean sat down at the table, pushing his chair back far enough so he wasn't touching the table's surface. Sam didn't seem to notice what his brother was doing, but Bobby did, his heart aching at the look on Dean's face.

"Are you hungry, kid? Sam and I made BLTs for lunch. And I know how much you love bacon."

"I'm not really that hungry, Uncle Bobby."

"Well, you need to eat something, Dean. You haven't had anything since dinner last night."

Dean really didn't feel like eating, but he knew that Bobby wouldn't take no for an answer. "Maybe I'll just have some toast or something," he finally agreed.

Bobby set himself to making some toast for Dean, lightly toasting it just the way the boy liked it. After putting a little bit of butter on the toast, he set the plate down in front of Dean and went to pour him some milk. Dean picked the plate up off the table and put it in his lap before grabbing the glass of milk and holding it in his other hand. Once he was settled away from the table again, he picked at the toast for several minutes, only taking a real bite when Bobby sent him a glare. Eventually, he was able to finish off one whole piece of toast and half of his milk before he couldn't eat any more. Bobby didn't look happy with the paltry meal, but he didn't push it any further.

Once Dean was done, Sam- who had been trying hard to keep his excitement to himself- couldn't take it anymore. "Daddy's home, Dean!" he finally said, barely staying in his seat as he delivered that bit of news to his brother.

Dean ignored Sam, instead focusing his attention back on Bobby. "Can we see him now? Please? We won't wake him up. I promise."

Bobby looked like he was going to say no, but he suddenly seemed to realize that he was fighting a never-ending battle. Dean wasn't going to give up until he saw for himself that his dad was okay.

"Okay, listen up, boys… We're gonna go into the living room, you're gonna see that your dad is sleeping, and then you're gonna go outside and get some fresh air. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said, just as Sam replied with a "Yes, Uncle Bobby."

"Okay, then… follow me. And keep it down."

Sam and Dean both climbed out of their chairs and followed Bobby into the living room. As they made their way over to the couch, they all noticed that John wasn't resting as well as he had been before. Bobby was surprised to see John thrashing around on the couch, obviously in the throes of some kind of fevered dream. Without a word, he went back into the kitchen, returning half a minute later with a wet towel. Gently pushing Sam and Dean aside, he reached down and wiped John's face with the cold towel. The man had been fighting a fever for the last several hours, causing Bobby's worry for his well-being to worsen.

Sam and Dean watched in horror as John thrashed on the couch. Although, Dean had helped his father with various injuries after past hunts, he had never seen the man so broken and it really scared him. He felt helpless and he hated that.

They both watched as Bobby wiped down their dad's face, both noticing how scrunched up his face was with pain.

"Is he okay?" Dean asked.

Before Bobby could answer, John started screaming. "SAM! DEAN! SAMMY! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Sam and Dean stared at their father, not knowing what to do. Dean pulled his little brother closer to him when he saw him begin to cry. "Uncle Bobby?"

"Take Sam outside, Dean," Bobby said. "Let me take care of your daddy."

"Uncle Bobby….."

"Now, Dean," Bobby yelled, just as John's body started shaking uncontrollably.

Dean grabbed Sam and headed to the front door. He turned and looked back at his dad at the last second, relieved to see that the shaking had already stopped and that Bobby seemed to have everything under control. Once he closed the door behind him, he turned to his brother, who was sitting on the porch steps, sobs wracking his small body. Dean sat down next to him and pulled him into his side.

"It's okay, Sammy. Dad's gonna be okay, I promise."

They sat there for what seemed like hours, neither of them moving away from the other.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry this one took so long. Things have been a little busy lately. Thanks to you all for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Take care.


	25. While I'm Waiting

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 25

While I'm Waiting

* * *

Things at the salvage yard were in complete disarray in the aftermath of John's injury. John was in and out of consciousness for three days, never fulling waking up at all, and that fact alone nearly drove Dean to the edge of what he could take. The boy would sit next to John for hours on end, watching over him, but never speaking to him. His eyes rarely left his dad's face, but when they did they were planted firmly on Sam. Bobby knew that the boy was at the end of his rope.

And that's where the problem truly started.

Dean was unusually intense for a child of eleven, always looking out for everyone around him, but seeing his father so vulnerable had pushed that intensity to a new level. And not really being able to help the man pushed it even further. Dean was used to doing things, fixing things. He wasn't used to sitting idly by as someone he loved suffered. He just didn't have it in him to do that.

Bobby knew that fact, but he had no idea how to help the boy. In fact, he was so used to Dean taking care of himself and he was so busy taking care of John and Sam that Dean's well-being fell to the wayside. He wasn't proud to admit that and it took him almost three full days to even realize that Dean hadn't taken a bath since the morning Caleb and Bill brought John back. The kid was still in the same pair of pajamas that he had changed into after cleaning up from all of John's blood.

Once he realized that, he wondered what else he had missed. _Had the boy been eating? Sleeping?_ _When was the last time he had said more than a 'yes, sir' or a 'no, sir?'_

Bobby had been so focused on taking care of John and making sure that Sammy was taken care of that he really didn't know the answers to those questions. And he felt awful because of it. _What kind of a man allowed an eleven year old to dictate when he was going to eat or sleep? What kind of man allowed a young boy to fall by the wayside, forgotten like a broken toy?_

He knew that Dean wouldn't respond well to being made to go to bed or go outside to play. Anything that took the boy away from his father's side would not be agreed to easily. In fact, he knew that he was in for one hell of a fight, and there was a part of him that really didn't want to push it. _He was a coward._

Steeling himself against what he knew was coming, Bobby made his way over to Dean. Sam was sound asleep in the chair next to the couch, so Dean had placed himself in the middle of the two members of his family. He had positioned himself where he could keep an eye on both of them, leaning against the corner of the coffee table awkwardly. He didn't even look up when Bobby entered the room.

"Hey, kid… Why don't you go on upstairs and take a bath? Don't you think it's about time you got out of those pajamas? It's three in the afternoon."

When Dean didn't answer, Bobby sat down on the edge of the coffee table. "Dean, I'm talking to you," he said somewhat sternly.

"I don't wanna take a bath," Dean answered quietly, his eyes never leaving his father.

"Dean…."

"Please, Uncle Booby," Dean begged.

"Come on, kid. You've been sitting here for days. I know you have to be tired and hungry."

"I'm not," Dean answered immediately.

"Dean, go upstairs and get cleaned up. When you come back down, I expect you to come into the kitchen and eat something."

Bobby decided that he needed to take control of the situation, once and for all, and when Dean still didn't move, he lost it. "Damn it, boy! Get up and do what I say or else you'll be doing it anyway with a sore backside."

Dean looked up at Bobby, realizing that the man was serious. He knew from past experiences that when Bobby said something like that, he meant it. He wasn't a man known for making empty threats. Reluctantly, he stood up and with one last look at his father and his brother, he quickly moved towards the stairs.

* * *

Dean was back downstairs within ten minutes and Bobby doubted that the boy had really gotten himself clean enough. He was at least relieved to see him dressed in clean jeans and a sweatshirt, so he decided not to push the subject. Once he hit the bottom of the stairs, Dean made to move towards where his dad and brother were, but with one look from Bobby, he changed direction and went into the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, Dean looked at the plate sitting in front of him. Bobby knew the boy probably wasn't going to eat much, so he made him a BLT, knowing how much Dean loved bacon. He also put a glass of orange juice in front of him, hoping to get at least a little bit of something nutritious into the boy.

Dean hesitated for a few seconds, but after a quick glance up to the older hunter, he slowly picked up the sandwich and took a bite. At first, he felt his stomach rebel at the greasy bacon, but after a few more bites, he realized that he felt a little better. By the time he felt like he couldn't take another bite, the sandwich was more than half-way gone and he had finished off the glass of juice.

Pushing back his chair, he picked up his plate and glass and carried them over to the sink. Once he had rinsed them out, Dean turned and started walking back towards the living room.

"Hold up!" Bobby said immediately. Dean came to a stop, but didn't turn around. "I want you to go outside for a while, Dean. Get some fresh air."

Dean finally turned around, his eyes pleading with Bobby not to make him go outside. "I don't wanna go outside, Uncle Bobby."

"Dean, you've been closed up inside this house for three days. I want you to go outside and get a little exercise or something. When Sammy wakes up, I'll send him out to you."

Dean wanted to argue with the man, wanting only to go back in and check on his dad, but he didn't. He knew that once Bobby told them to do something, it was expected of them to obey. So, without a single word and only a backward glance towards the living room, Dean turned and walked out onto the porch.

Bobby slipped back into the living room, hoping to see that John was showing signs of waking up. Instead, the man was still out, not having moved at all. Bobby looked over at Sam, who was still curled up on the armchair, looking too small and vulnerable.

Once he made sure that the two Winchesters were okay, he stepped over to the window and looked for Dean. He wasn't surprised to see the boy sitting on the porch, staring down at the ground. Still not wanting to push the kid too hard, Bobby decided to leave Dean alone for the time being.

Making his way back into the living room, Bobby sat down in the other arm chair and closed his eyes. He hadn't slept much at all in the last few days, but he wouldn't let himself fall asleep. He needed to stay awake in case John or the boys needed him.

Knowing he was more than likely going to fall asleep if he sat for too long, Bobby pulled himself out of the chair and went into the kitchen to make some more coffee. He had been relying on the caffeine to keep him awake and it had been working, except for the fact that his whole body felt like it was in a constant state of trembling alertness. _Maybe he should lay off the coffee a little. Or maybe not._

Just as the coffee finished brewing, Bobby heard some noises coming from the living room. Quickly heading back into the living room, he saw that Sam was waking up. The boy was trying to sit up in the chair and was looking around him in confusion. Bobby knew that he was most likely looking for his brother.

"Hey, kiddo…. Feel better after your nap?"

"Hi, Uncle Bobby," Sam answered with a yawn. "Where's Dean?"

"He's sitting outside on the porch. Feel like going out there and seeing what he's up to?"

"Okay," Sam said as he climbed down out of the chair.

"See if you can get him to do something fun, Sam, okay? And don't forget your jacket."

Sam grabbed the jacket he had been wearing while at Bobby's, since he had left his coat at school the day they left. It was a little too big for him, but it was definitely better than just a sweatshirt. Bobby watched as he struggled to put the jacket on and opened the door. Stepping over to the open door, Bobby watched as Sam ran over to where his brother was sitting. He didn't miss the way Dean's eyes lit up at the sight of his little brother.

Stepping out onto the porch, Bobby reminded Dean and Sam that they needed to stay in the yard. Without another word, he stepped back into the house to take care of John Winchester.

* * *

It was almost another full day before John started showing signs of truly waking up. In that time frame, Bobby had yelled at Dean three times, yelled at Sam twice, and sent both boys to their room with several smacks to their backsides once. Both boys were falling apart in front of his eyes.

The last issue came about when, in complete exhaustion, Dean finally snapped. He and Sam had been playing a board game on the floor next to John, both boys bickering more and more frequently as the game went on. Dean and Sam were both fairly competitive, but Bobby had noticed that more often than not, Dean would allow his little brother to win. Not this time, though. Whether it was because he was too tired to really put much effort into letting his brother win or because he himself wanted to win, Dean was winning and Sam was not happy.

"You're cheating!" Sam yelled, not for the first time.

"No, I'm not," Dean yelled back. "I don't cheat!"

"Yes, you do! You always cheat!"

"No, I don't! Shut up, Sammy!"

"Hey," Bobby yelled from the kitchen. "What's going on in there?"

"Nothing, Uncle Bobby," Dean called back. "Sammy's just being an idjit!"

"Dean's calling me names, Uncle Bobby," Sammy cried.

Bobby made his way into the living room, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. "What are you two arguing about?" he asked. Immediately, both boys started talking at once.

"Dean's cheating!"

"Sammy called me a cheater!"

"Boys!" Bobby yelled when Sam and Dean started yelling at each other again. "That's enough!"

Neither Sam nor Dean stopped yelling, though. Instead, they just started yelling even louder and eventually Dean leaned forward and pushed Sam. Sam started crying, but leaned forward and punched Dean in the nose. Seconds later, Bobby found himself having to physically pull the brothers off of each other.

"Knock it off!" he bellowed as he held onto the arms of both boys. "What has gotten into you two?"

Dean and Sam both stopped struggling against Bobby's hold for a few seconds before starting up again. Without a second thought, Bobby let go of Sam's arm and landed three solid smacks to Dean's backside. The boy immediately stopped moving, watching in horror as Bobby did the same thing to his little brother. Once Sam had settled, too, Bobby pointed at each boy in turn.

"Now, both of you knock it off. Your daddy doesn't need the two of you acting like hooligans just ten feet away from where he's resting."

Bobby could tell that Dean was embarrassed at having been spanked. And Sam was always devastated for the same thing. Both boys looked up at him with sad eyes and it was almost more than he could take.

"You boys get on upstairs. You're spending the rest of the afternoon in your room. And I better not hear anymore fighting, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam answered sadly.

"Dean?"

"I don't wanna go upstairs," Dean answered firmly. "I wanna stay with Dad."

"Do as you're told, boy, or you and I are gonna have a little chat with my wooden spoon," Bobby said gruffly, his frustration peaking. He had had occasion to use his trusty old wooden spoon a time or two in the past with Dean and he knew how much the boy hated it. He wasn't surprised when the willful determination in Dean's eyes faded to acceptance of being sent to his room.

Dean stepped away from Bobby and gently took Sam by the hand, leading him to the stairs. Just as they were about to start up the stairs, he turned and looked back at Bobby.

"Uncle Bobby?"

Before he could continue, Bobby stopped him. "I promise to let you know if anything changes, Dean," he said quietly. "Now go on."

He watched until the boys made it up the stairs and turned the corner before he turned himself back toward the living room. He had been in the middle of fixing dinner, but he wanted to check on John again before going back to the kitchen.

Walking over to the couch where John had been laying for the last several days, Bobby was surprised to see the man's eyes open. "John?" he said as he bent down to check the man's pulse. "You're awake!"

John looked around for several long seconds as if he was trying to remember where he was and what had happened. Eventually, his eyes landed back on Bobby's and he tried to sit up.

"Hold on, just stay there, okay? You're pretty busted up, John. Don't do too much or you'll pull on your stitches."

John smacked his lips together a few times, trying to work up some moisture in his mouth. Bobby quickly leaned over and grabbed the glass of water that Sam had been drinking. Helping the man to sit up slightly, he held the glass to his lips. "Go slow, John. Don't make yourself sick."

John took several small sips before he started coughing a little. Once he got his breathing back under control, he finally tried to speak. "Where…."

"You're at my home," Bobby answered, thinking John was asking where he was.

"No…. my boys…..where are they?"

"They're upstairs, John. They're safe."

"I need….to….see them," he said breathlessly.

"I'll call them down in a few minutes, okay? You need to get your bearings a little first."

John relaxed back into the couch, groaning in pain as he did. "I'll get you something for the pain, okay? I'll be right back."

Bobby turned and left to get the first aid kit while John laid back and tried to catalogue his injuries. By the time Bobby had returned, he had worked himself up into a state of agitation.

"What the hell, Bobby?!" he growled. "Get this damn catheter out of me! Now!"

Bobby laughed at the look on John's face. "Hey! Calm down, Winchester! What was I supposed to do? Let you pee all over my couch? You've been out for almost five days!"

John looked surprised at that, obviously not realizing that he had been out for so long. "Well, get it out right now! I'm not going to pee on your couch now that I'm awake."

"Maybe we should leave it in a little longer, John," Bobby tried to reason. "You're pretty weak right now."

John glared at his friend. "It's not staying in a minute longer, Singer. I mean it! Get it out or I'll yank it myself!"

Bobby laughed, but he started assembling what he needed to pull the catheter out. A minute later, it was out and John was feeling much more human. And of course, a much more human-feeling, alert John Winchester quickly grew into a royal pain in the butt.

"I need a shower," he stated suddenly as he tried to throw his legs to the floor. "Help me up!"

Bobby tried to reason with the man, but knew it was more than likely a lost cause. With one last trick up his sleeve to try to keep the man on the couch, Bobby brought up the boys. "John, we've all been really worried about you. Especially Dean. What do you say we call them down here so they can see for themselves that you're okay? Then I'll see about helping you get cleaned up."

"I don't need your help, Singer."

"Yeah, you do. And the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be. Now, stay here while I go get the boys."

John sank back against the couch again, knowing when he had lost the battle. He listened as Bobby made his way to the stairs and he suddenly found himself extremely anxious to see his sons.

* * *

Sam and Dean were both laying on their beds, curled up on their sides. Bobby's smacks weren't particularly painful, but they did leave a bit of a sting behind. Sam was still crying a little and Dean suddenly felt guilty for letting his little brother get into trouble. Rolling off of his bed, he stepped over to Sam's and crawled in next to the boy. "I'm sorry for pushing you like that, Sammy," he said.

"I'm sorry for punching you in the nose, Dean. Is it okay?"

"It's fine," Dean laughed. "You barely got me."

Sam curled up into Dean's chest, playing with the strings on the front of his hoodie. "Dean? When is Daddy gonna wake up? I miss him."

"I miss him, too, Sam. And I think he's gonna wake up real soon." Dean didn't really think that their dad was going to wake up soon. In fact, he thought the man might never wake up. But, he wasn't going to tell his little brother that. _No, Sammy didn't need to worry about that right now._ "Since we're stuck up here for the afternoon, do you wanna play I Spy? Or I could read you a story."

"A story!" Sam answered right away. "But I want you to make up one."

Dean groaned, knowing that Sam was going to say that. His little brother always liked the stories Dean made up more that the stories in any book. Dean thought for several minutes to come up with some story ideas. "Okay, do you want a story about a pig who got stuck in a hole? Or a squirrel who broke into the peanut factory?"

"The squirrel!" Sam laughed. "I love squirrels!"

Dean pulled Sam in closer to his chest and started his story. "There once was a squirrel named Twitchy who was really, really hungry. He was so hungry that he dreamed all day and all night of finding the biggest, bestest collection of nuts in the whole world….."

Sam listened for as long as he could before he finally fell asleep. Dean wasn't too far behind him, but just before he finally dozed off, the door opened and Bobby stood in the doorway with a strange look on his face.

"Uncle Bobby? What's wrong?"

Bobby suddenly grinned. "Your daddy's awake, Dean. He woke up about fifteen minutes ago."

Dean started to jump out of bed, but Bobby stopped him. "Whoa! Wait a minute, kid. Don't wake your brother up just yet, okay? I think maybe your dad needs to only be bombarded with one of you at a time."

Dean looked over at Sam who was still sound asleep. Moving easier, he pulled himself out of the bed and followed Bobby downstairs. Just before they reached the bottom, Bobby stopped. "Dean, your dad's been through a lot and he's still nursing a lot of injuries. Go easy on him, okay?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Stepping into the living room, he made himself walk slowly over to the couch, his eyes never leaving his father's pale face.

"Dad?" Dean said in a near whisper.

"Hey, Dean," John answered, smiling up at his oldest son. "Come here…."

Without hesitating, Dean threw himself into his father's arms, forgetting that the man was still injured. Bobby harrumphed over by the door, but other that the small "oof" that John let out when Dean landed on him, John didn't mind it. He was just happy to have one of his boys in his arms.

And Dean was more than happy to have his dad back.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait. I haven't had a whole lot of time to write lately, it seems. I hope this chapter somewhat makes up for the wait.

Thanks so much for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts. And in case you're interested, I started another story called Raising Winchesters. I'd be honored if you all gave it a try.


	26. Something Wicked

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 26

Something Wicked

* * *

The next few days were exhausting for everyone. John Winchester wasn't the type of man to just lay around on a couch for days on end, regardless of whether or not he had been near death just days before, and he was bound and determined to get back to being active.

Of course, Bobby wasn't having anything to do with that foolishness. He hovered over John like a mother hen, making sure the man ate, drank, and rested enough. He made sure he took his medication and changed his dressings, regardless of how much he fought him on it. He also made sure to keep John away from his liquor cabinet. _And boy, wasn't that a battle!_

When he wasn't busy taking care of John, Bobby had his hands full with Sam and Dean. And that was almost even harder work. _Almost._ The boys were excited to have their dad back, even though he was still in no shape to entertain them, and it was hard for them to understand that. In fact, John's temper was so short, because of his frustration with being laid up and the amount of pain he was in, that Bobby often found him yelling at his sons for every little offense.

Dean had learned to read his father's moods, for the most part, but Sam was still too young to pick up on the various temperaments of John Winchester. And that led to a lot of tears.

Of course, John wasn't proud of the way he was acting, but he also wasn't strong enough at the moment to control his emotions. He hadn't ever felt so weak or so helpless in his life and it was a feeling he truly despised. John Winchester hated being weak.

Four days after John finally woke up, Bobby had to go into town to pick up some much needed supplies. He offered to take the boys with him, but both Sam and Dean wanted to stay with their father. John reassured Bobby that he was fine and that he could more than handle his boys. Before he left, though, Bobby pulled the two youngest Winchesters aside for a talk.

"Listen up, boys," he said as he sat them down at the kitchen table. Sam and Dean looked up at him expectantly. "I'm leaving, but I'll be back in a few hours. Dean? I expect you to keep an eye on things while I'm gone, okay? Make sure your Daddy doesn't do anything stupid. And Sammy, listen to your brother."

"Why do I always have to listen to Dean?" Sam whined. "It's not fair, Uncle Bobby. Dean doesn't ever have to listen to me."

"That's cause I'm the oldest, Samantha. You _have_ to listen to me."

Dean's words immediately set Sam off and before Bobby knew it, the kitchen was filled with two arguing kids who were yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Bobby tried to get them to stop yelling, but neither boy was listening to him. Just as he was about to start yelling himself, a very disgruntled John walked into the kitchen.

"What the hell is going on?! Dean! Sam! Knock it off, boys!"

Dean and Sam both stopped mid-yell, surprised to see their father standing in the doorway. Sam immediately started crying and Dean found himself staring down at the table.

"Daddy, Dean's being mean to me," Sam cried as he ran to his father. Bobby tried to stop him before he jumped on John, but he was too late.

John let out an "oof" when Sam connected with his stomach. Dean rushed forward and grabbed Sam, trying to pull him away before their father got angry.

"Let me go, Dean!" Sam yelled as he struggled to get away from his brother. "I want Daddy!"

"Sammy, you gotta be careful. Dad's still hurt, remember?"

Sam's flailing arm hit Dean in the jaw, causing him to let out an "oof" of his own. But, once the words registered in Sam's mind, he stopped struggling. Dean held onto him, just in case.

"Are you okay, Dad?" Dean asked, looking at the man suspiciously when he realized he was rubbing his belly.

"I'm fine, Dean. Now, what's going on in here? You boys know better than to fight like that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Dean immediately answered. Looking over at Sam, he realized that his little brother looked scared, thinking that they were probably in trouble with their dad. "It's my fault, Dad. I was teasing Sam and called him Samantha."

John's face darkened. "We've talked about this before, Dean. You know you're not supposed to tease your brother like that."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

"And you know how I feel about having to repeat things to you over and over again."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered again, his heart sinking at the thought of disappointing his father.

"Well, then…. See that we don't have to have this conversation again. Understand?"

"Yes, sir…."

"What do you got to eat, Bobby? I'm starving."

Bobby glared at his friend, not missing the way the man's breaths were still a little short and his face had a permanent grimace. "You should still be in bed, John. You shouldn't be up moving around so much."

"I can't sit still any longer. My ass is starting to fuse with the couch."

Dean laughed, but Sam suddenly looked serious, glaring at his father. "Daddy, you're not s'posed to say that word, remember?"

Bobby and Dean both laughed at the way Sam stood in front of John, his hands on his hips and his face set in a scowl. John just stared at the little boy, not knowing what to say to him. Eventually, he moved his gaze over to the Bobby and Dean, who were still laughing at the stand-off.

"Yeah, Dad….you're not supposed to say that word," Dean teased.

John turned back to Sam. "You're right, Sam. I'm sorry for letting that one slip out." He was just about to sit down at the table when Dean spoke up again.

"I think Dad needs to be punished, don't you, Sammy? For misbehaving?"

"Yeah," Sam answered with big grin. "You're in time-out, Daddy. For a hundred minutes."

John spit out the drink he had just taken. "A hundred minutes? Where did you come up with that number?"

"Miss Whitley makes us stay in time out for as long as we are old," Sam explained patiently. "When I didn't turn in my homework, I had to stay in time-out for seven minutes!"

Bobby and Dean burst out laughing again at the look on John's face. "Sam, I'm not a hundred years old, kid," he explained with a grin.

"Really? You're older than a hundred?"

"NO! I'm only thirty-six, Sam."

"Oh," Sam answered. "Well, then you're in time-out for thirty-six minutes."

John looked over at Bobby and Dean, hoping that one of them would rescue him from the situation he was in. Dean finally took pity on his old man.

"Wait a minute, Sammy….you mean you actually didn't turn in your homework and got put in time-out? You? Sam Winchester?"

Now it was Bobby and John that were laughing loudly at the look on Sam's face. "It was your fault, Dean! You spilled scabetti-ohs all over it, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Sorry you got time-out for that, Sammy."

Before Sam could say anything else, John interrupted. "Okay, that's enough talk about time-outs. I'm starving."

Bobby made his way over to the refrigerator as Sam and Dean sat down at the table next to their father.

"I guess my errands will have to wait a while. So, how about I make us up some cheeseburgers?" he asked as he looked at the three Winchesters sitting at his table.

"Yes!" Dean yelled immediately. "Can I have bacon on mine? And extra cheese?"

"Me, too, Bobby," John added. "And I definitely need a beer."

"Dean wants a beer, too, Uncle Bobby. He really likes them!" Sam looked over at his brother with a huge grin on his face. "Don't you, Dean?"

"Sam, I told you not to talk about that anymore, remember?" Dean whispered loudly, as Bobby threw a shocked look over at John.

"Sorry, Dean. I forgot."

"When did Dean figure out he likes beer?" Bobby asked.

"It's a long story, Bobby. And I'm too hungry to go into it right now. But it's been taken care of, so don't worry about it."

"If you say so, Winchester."

"I say so."

* * *

The next week went along pretty smoothly for a change. Sam and Dean were able to keep themselves out of trouble, so once John was up and moving around better, he decided to make good on his promise of doing something fun with them if they behaved. He knew he wasn't up to a lot of activity, so he tried to find something that both Sam and Dean would enjoy and that he himself could tolerate physically and mentally.

It was early in the morning, but both boys were already awake and sitting at the table eating cereal. John was sipping on a cup of fresh coffee, savoring the taste of the brew and the sounds of his sons chatting. Sam was telling Dean all about the latest episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy he had watched. John laughed at the bored look on Dean's face, but was proud of the boy for being so patient with his little brother.

He waited patiently for Sam to stop talking so he could tell the boys what he had planned, but Sam wouldn't stop. _The boy was obviously really excited about the show._ Eventually, though, Sam paused to take a deep breath and John jumped in.

"Boys, remember what I said before I left? That if you behaved we'd do something fun?"

Both boys dropped their eyes to the table and John immediately wondered if Bobby had forgotten to tell him something. "Dean? Do you remember when I told you that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bobby didn't report any misbehavior, so I guess that means you were well-behaved. Is that right?"

Sam spoke up before Dean could. "We tried to best-behave, Daddy. We helped Uncle Bobby and we went to bed when he told us to. Didn't we, Dean?"

"Yeah, we did…."

"Dean even ate his vegables, Daddy!"

"He did?" John looked over at Dean who had a slight blush on his face. "Well, it sounds like you guys really were on your best behavior. I guess that means I need to hold up my end of the bargain."

Dean looked up in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. So, why don't you two get upstairs and get ready. Dean, make sure Sam brushes his teeth good. And you, too."

"Yes, sir," Dean said as he jumped up from the table. "Let's go, Sammy."

Sam jumped down from his chair and quickly followed Dean, who was already running up the stairs.

"Hey! No running in the house!" John yelled.

He heard the boys immediately stop running, followed by a "sorry, Dad" that came from his eldest. Settling back into his chair, he waited for them to come back downstairs. It wasn't long before he heard them plodding back down the stairs.

"We're ready, Dad," Dean said as he entered he kitchen. "I made sure Sam brushed his teeth really, really good."

"Let me see, Sammy," John said as he motioned for Sam to come to him.

Sam quickly made his way over to his dad and climbed up in his lap, his mouth stretched open to show off his teeth. "Dean helped me get the back ones, Daddy. He said I wasn't doing it good enough."

"Well, it looks like you both did a good job," John said proudly, not missing the smile that crossed Dean's face. "So, now that your teeth are so white I could find them in the dark, what do you say we get out of here?"

"What about Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked.

"He's staying here to do some research. And someone has to man the phones."

"Where are we going, Daddy?" Sam asked as he bounced on his feet.

"It's a surprise, Sammy. You'll have to wait and see."

Without another word, John ushered the boys out to the Impala.

* * *

John wondered why it seemed it was impossible for him to show his boys at least one good day. It seemed like every time he tried to do something special- something normal- with them, something happened to ruin it. _And wouldn't you know that this time it would be a monster that ruined everything._

Since it was still wintertime, John found a place that he thought the boys would really enjoy that would also keep them inside and warm. The boys had never been to an indoor fun center before, and as far as he could tell, it had enough of a variety to satisfy both Sam and Dean.

There was an indoor shooting range and bumper car ride that Dean would love and there was also a section in the corner where the kids could do science experiments and other stuff that Sam would like. There were games to play and rides to ride and unfortunately, a spirit to mess everything up.

John's first clue should have been the fact that the place was mostly empty, with only a handful of other parents and kids. Bobby told him that this was the place to go during the cold South Dakota winters, yet it didn't appear to be that way.

Sam and Dean didn't care, though. The minute they walked through the doors, they were off and running, burning up some long pent-up energy. John was almost completely healed, but he still found it harder than usual to keep up with his sons.

Eventually, he corralled them for lunch, forcing an over-excited Dean to sit down at the table while he tried to contain an even more excited seven year old.

"You boys need to take a break," John said as he placed Sam down in a chair next to Dean. "You haven't stopped running around since we got here."

"But I wanna ride on the carousel, Daddy," Sam whined, causing Dean to roll his eyes.

"The carousel is for babies, Sammy. I'm not getting on that thing."

"It is not!" Sam yelled. "And I did the bumper cars with you four times, Dean!"

"Yeah, but you like the bumper cars, too, Sammy!"

"Daddy, tell Dean he has to go on the carousel with me," Sam pleaded.

By this time, John was starting to get a headache and began to wonder how much more he could take. "Okay, boys….stay right here while I go order us some food. Dean, watch out for Sammy."

"I know, Dad," Dean groaned, causing John to give him a look.

"I'll be right back."

John stepped over to the counter to place their order, all the while keeping an eye on his sons. He turned away from them for a few seconds to check out the menu, but his attention was quickly brought back to them when he heard Sam start crying. Rushing back to the table, he was surprised by what he saw.

"What happened?" he asked when he noticed a large red mark on Sam's arm.

"Dean pinched me," Sam cried, holding out his arm for his dad to see. "It hurts, Daddy!"

"No, I didn't," Dean tried to defend himself. "Honest!"

"He did, too, Daddy. I put my head down on the table and then he pinched me. See?"

"Why would you do that, Dean?" John growled angrily.

"I didn't! I swear!"

John picked the still crying Sam up and grabbed Dean by the back of his neck, leading him towards the bathroom. Dean struggled to keep up. Once they were inside the bathroom, John sat Sam down on the edge of the sink and turned on the cold water. Wetting down a paper towel, he held it to the reddened skin, hoping to soothe it a little. "There you go, Sammy. Is that better?"

"A little," Sam sniffled. "It still hurts though."

"Give it a few minutes, kiddo. It'll feel better soon."

Setting Sam back on the ground, John turned his attention to Dean. "What were you thinking, Dean? You know better than to hurt your little brother like that. You're supposed to be watching out for him, remember?"

"I didn't do it, Dad."

"Don't lie to me, Dean. You were the only one around and I seriously doubt that Sam pinched himself."

"I swear I didn't do it!"

Without another word, John reached out and grabbed Dean by the arm, turning him to the side to deliver five harsh smacks to his backside. He was surprised when Dean burst into tears. The kid usually never outright cried when he was smacked, but John admitted that the smacks were a little harder than usual.

After giving Dean a few minutes to gather himself, John led them back outside to the table and told them to sit down. Dean sat gingerly in his seat, staring down at the table. Sam, who by this time had stopped crying, looked at his brother sadly.

Thirty minutes later, they were through eating. Or in Dean's case, through picking at his food. John was tempted to just take the boys and head back to Bobby's, but something convinced him to stay and try to salvage the day.

"Okay, boys… what do you want to do next?" he asked, hoping to cheer Dean up with the fact that they weren't leaving yet.

"I'll go on the bumper cars with you again, Dean," Sam offered hopefully.

"It's okay, Sammy. We don't have to."

"But, I want to. I like the bumper cars."

"I don't really feel like it," Dean answered. "How about if I take you on the carousel."

Sam's face fell, leaving John to come up with a plan. "What do you say we take a quick turn on the carousel and then we'll all go on the bumper cars."

Dean immediately looked up at his dad. " _You_ wanna go on the bumper cars?" he asked.

"Yeah. I can't let the two of you have all the fun, can I?

John was relieved to see Dean's face light up a little.

Making their way over to the carousel with Sam yapping on and on about which horse he wanted to ride, John noticed something strange going on in the corner of the building where the science lab was. He stopped walking, causing both Dean and Sam to run into him.

"Stay right here, boys. I'll be right back."

John quickly stepped over to the commotion, stopping only once to make sure that Dean and Sam were staying put like he told them to. Once he made his way over to the corner, he walked up to one of the employees that had a strange look on his face.

"What's going on?" he asked loudly. "Did something happen?"

Looking around the employee, he noticed a young woman talking loudly to another employee. She was nearly hysterical, so John only heard a few words here and there.

"It….grabbed….. tried to….scratches…."

Seeing that both employees were nearly as freaked out as the young mother, John decided to step in. Pulling out a fake badge he usually carried in his pocket, he quickly introduced himself and asked what happened. After almost a full minute of trying to get the young woman to calm down, he was finally able to get some answers.

"My daughter was over there painting a picture when all of a sudden this woman appeared and tried to take her. I grabbed my daughter's arm and tried to pull her away from the woman, but she wouldn't let go. Casey started screaming and then the woman just disappeared. She completely disappeared."

"Is your daughter okay?" John asked, looking down at the little girl that was clinging desperately to her mother.

"She scratched her," the woman said as she pulled up one of the girl's sleeves to reveal a long, bloody scratch.

John gave one of the employees instructions to go get a wet towel and some bandaids. Once the guy left to follow those orders, John looked back to check on his sons. Both Sam and Dean were still standing in the place he had left them, watching everything unfold. Turning back to the woman, he asked her if she had any idea who the woman was.

"Did you know her? Had you seen her here earlier?

"No," she said as she held her daughter closer. "No, I hadn't seen her before."

"Can you describe her?"

"I don't know. She was old. Like at least thirty-five, I think."

John frowned at her, but didn't interrupt her.

"She was a little taller than me and she was wearing weird clothes."

"Why do you mean by weird," he asked.

"She had on this long skirt with an apron over it. And her hair was done up in this tight bun."

After a few more questions, John told the lady thank you and then asked one of the employees to get the manager on duty for him. A few minutes later, a nervous looking young man stepped out of an office and over to him.

"Hi, I'm Special Agent Hendrix with the FBI. You mind answering a few questions for me?"

"FBI?" the man asked nervously. "Why would the FBI be here?"

"I'm actually here with my two sons," John said as he pointed over to Sam and Dean. "When I heard the commotion, I thought maybe I could be of help. And once I heard the details of what happened, I realized that it might have something to do with a case I'm working on."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'm Nathan Turner. I'm the Manager on Duty today."

John quickly filled the young man in on what had happened and gave him the description of the strange lady. "Have you ever seen anyone that fit that description?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"Has there been any other strange occurrences here lately? Anything else weird like cold spots or temperature fluctuations?"

"It's the middle of winter," Nathan said stupidly. "It's cold outside."

"I'm talking about in here, Mr. Turner," John answered, trying desperately not to roll his eyes. "It seems pretty warm in here right now, so I'm assuming that you heat the place. Any temperature changes despite the heat?

"Well, some of our customers do complain that the corner where the science lab is gets cold sometimes. And the carousel sometimes starts on its own. The boss says it's just the wiring, but I don't know."

"Any lights flickering? Or weird smells?"

"This place always smells weird," Nathan laughed. "It's usually full of sweaty kids running around like crazy."

"Usually full of kids?" John asked. "It doesn't seem that full today."

"We're having a lull in business."

"Is that normal for this time of year?"

"No, usually this is one of our busiest times of year. It's so cold outside, so parents are trying to find ways to keep their kids entertained while also keeping them warm."

"Why do you think business has been so slow lately?"

"Well, it's probably because of the accidents."

John wasn't able to contain his eye roll this time. Getting information out of this young man was like pulling teeth…. Slow and painful.

"What accidents? Can you elaborate on that?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," Nathan said quietly.

John pulled out his badge again. "I think it would be in your best interest to cooperate, Mr. Turner."

"Okay, okay. About a month ago, there were several strange accidents that happened here. The first one happened to someone on our cleaning staff. He was here all alone one night, cleaning up after a big birthday party. Some of the kids thought it would be funny to spit spitballs up on the ceiling, so he was up on a ladder, trying to clean them off. Our weekend manager found him the next morning. He had fallen off the ladder and broke both of his legs in several different places. When he came around, he started yelling that some woman had pushed him off the ladder, but there wasn't anyone else here."

"And the other accident?"

"That one happened last week. A woman went into the bathroom and minutes later came out screaming. She had bloody scratches covering her face. She said that some woman came into the bathroom and attacked her. She said the door was locked, so she had no idea how the woman got into the bathroom. And when she tried to leave, the woman blocked her way. She said that one minute the woman was there, pulling on her and scratching at her, and the next minute she was gone. After that, I guess the story got around and our business dropped. The only customers we get now are out-of-towners that haven't heard the stories."

John was just about to thank the man when he looked over and saw Sam and Dean walking towards the carousel. Just before they got there, the carousel started going around, picking up speed with every second. Luckily, no one was on it. John quickly made his way over to his sons, scooping Sam up into his arms and pulling Dean into his side.

"Let's go, boys," he said, determined to get them to safety.

"Daddy, you said we could ride the carousel!" Sammy cried. "Look how fast it's going."

"We're leaving," John answered.

"Dad? Is everything okay? What happened over there?" Dean asked.

"Don't worry about it, Dean. Let's just get out of here."

Sam started crying at the thought that they were leaving and didn't stop, even as the Impala pulled away from the building. Dean tried his best to calm his little brother down, but nothing worked until John, whose patience by that time had completely run out, threatened to pull the car over and give his youngest _"something to really cry about."_ Sam immediately stopped crying, trying his hardest to get his breathing under control, while Dean rubbed his back. John looked into the back seat, his heart sinking at the sight of his heartbroken sons, wondering why it was that they couldn't ever have just one good day.

* * *

Author's note: Well, John held up his end of the bargain, even though things didn't really go as planned. And apparently, good ol' Uncle Bobby decided not to tell the man about Dean's adventures in the shed. What a guy!

Thanks so much for reading, y'all. I truly appreciate you. Oh, and I want to give a shout out to those of you who faithfully review. It really means so much to me that you take the time to tell me what you think of my story. So, thanks spnfanfromeurope, Auphepet, VegasGranny, EmilyAnnMcGarrett-Winchester, TheKnittingTimeLady, Ullswater, Ginger713, femkesmedinga, fanofvamps, Ponygirlrunner25, MeldirielErulisse, ayosb2000, scootersmom, Kathy, and Michelle.

And, of course, just a lovely thanks to anyone who has left me a review.


	27. Trouble Always Finds Me

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 27

Trouble Always Finds Me

* * *

Dean didn't know how he always got himself into so much trouble. He really didn't go looking for it. It usually just found him. But this time, the trouble was definitely his fault.

The ride back from the fun center was long and boring. It was made even worse by the disappointment that was seeping out of every pore in his little brother's body. He knew that Sam was really disappointed that their day had been cut short so quickly and he really hated seeing his brother so sad. The whole ride home, he snuggled up with Sam under a scratchy wool blanket, telling him stories in an attempt to take his mind off the ruined day.

On top of that, his dad was suddenly in a really bad mood, too. Not that John Winchester was ever really in a good mood, but the day had started out different for the small family. Unfortunately, it ended much like every other miserable day for the Winchester family.

By the time they arrived back at Bobby's, Sam's mood had lightened a little, much in part to the stories that Dean had been telling him for the last half hour of the ride. If there was one thing that Dean was really good at, it was distracting and entertaining Sam.

The second the car stopped, the boys jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs to greet their Uncle Bobby. Bobby listened patiently as Sam chattered on and on about their day. Dean occasionally chimed in with something, but Bobby could tell that the boy was upset about something. He could also tell that John had something on his mind and that he was eager to talk to him.

Giving Sam a few more minutes to tell his stories, Bobby finally interrupted.

"Dean, why don't you take your brother into the living room to watch some cartoons. I need to talk to your dad."

Dean looked between the two men, knowing that they would be discussing whatever had happened at the fun center. He had his own suspicions that whatever was going on there was something of the supernatural variety and he was worried that his father was going to leave them to hunt whatever it was.

Normally, Dean wouldn't be too upset about his father leaving for a hunt, but this time was different. This time Dean realized, probably for the first time ever, that his father was vulnerable. That his father could die on a hunt. Of course, he always _knew_ that it could happen, but this time he really, truly understood what that meant. What that looked like. A vision of his father- bloodied, broken, and bruised- suddenly entered his mind and panic took hold somewhere deep inside of him.

Without a word, he took Sam's arm and pulled him out of the room. Once he had Sam settled in the living room, contentedly watching cartoons, Dean slipped out of the room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom. Instead, he made his way over to Bobby's study, being careful to be as quiet as he could as he leaned in to listen to what the two hunters were talking about.

* * *

John was pacing back and forth in the small study, driving Bobby so crazy in the process that he wasn't prepared when the man suddenly turned on him in anger.

"What the hell, Bobby?! Why didn't you tell me there was a hunt almost right under our noses?!"

"What are you talking about?" Bobby growled. "What hunt?"

"There's a spirit at the fun center I took the boys to in Mitchell, Singer. Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Maybe because I didn't know, Winchester," Bobby answered angrily. "Why would I keep something like that from you?"

"Okay, okay," John said. "I figured you knew about everything that happened in these parts, but obviously I was wrong."

"Well, I've been a little busy taking care of Winchesters, in case you forgot."

"Things _have_ been a little busy lately," John gave in.

"Yeah, they have. Now, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"A damn spirit attacked Sammy, that's what happened."

"What do you mean 'attacked Sammy'? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. The spirit just pinched him on the arm, but I…."

"But you what?" Bobby prompted.

John looked away from his friend guiltily as he started pacing back and forth again. "I thought Dean did it," he finally admitted. "I left them sitting at the table to go get our lunch. While I was gone, Sam started crying and said that Dean pinched him. What was I to think, Bobby?"

"Well, what did Dean say about it?"

John suddenly looked even guiltier. "He said he didn't do it, but what was I supposed to think? They were the only two at the table."

"Did you give Dean a chance to explain? Or did you just immediately convict him of the crime?"

"Bobby, they were the only two at the table…."

"So what happened? Did you punish him?"

"Of course, I did. I thought he pinched his little brother for no reason and then lied to me about it, so I spanked him."

"But, you've apologized to him since, right? For not listening to him?" When John didn't answer, Bobby continued. "John, you have to talk to him."

"I will. But, first we need to figure out what we're going to do about this spirit."

Bobby listened as John explained to him all that had happened and what he had learned with his questioning of the girl's mother and the fun center employees. Neither one of them realized that Dean was standing right outside the door, hearing everything they were discussing.

"I'll head into town and do some research if you want to have your talk with Dean, John. And I'll bring back some dinner, too."

"I'll talk to Dean later," John said, but Bobby stopped him.

"You need to talk to him now. You know how he holds things in and gets more upset by the minute. Talk to him, John."

"Fine. I'll talk to him right now. And when you get back, I'm heading back to the fun center."

"John, maybe you should let me handle this. You're still recovering."

"I'm fine, Bobby. I can handle it."

"But…"

"I can handle it, Singer."

"Fine," Bobby answered angrily.

* * *

Dean scrambled back from the door and ran back to the living room, surprised to find Sam fast asleep on the couch. Squeezing in next to his brother, he had just enough time to cover himself up with the blanket when his dad walked in.

"Hey, Dean…what are you watching?"

Dean quickly looked over to the television, trying to figure out what cartoon was on. "Scooby Doo," he replied instantly.

"Looks like Sammy was tired."

"Yeah, he's just a kid, remember? He gets tired easily."

John smiled at his son's words, before stooping down to turn off the television. "Can I talk to you for a minute, son?"

Dean sat up a little straighter and tugged the blanket even tighter around him.

"I, uh…. I wanted to say I'm sorry for, uh… for punishing you today," John stammered. He wasn't used to handing out apologies.

"I didn't pinch him, Dad. I swear," Dean said.

"I know that now, Dean. That's why I'm apologizing. I should have given you a chance to explain yourself before I reacted."

Dean stared at the blanket on his lap, not knowing what else to say. Eventually, he thought to ask his dad about what actually happened, but John didn't seem to want to answer.

"Don't worry about it, Dean, okay? Your Uncle Bobby and I are going to take care of it."

"Is it a ghost?" Dean asked. "Because if it is, I can help."

"It's under control, kiddo."

"But, I know how to take care of ghosts, Dad. I can help you!"

"Dean, I said don't worry about it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered dejectedly.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go make a few phone calls. You and Sammy stay inside for now, okay? Uncle Bobby's bringing dinner home in a while, but if you need a snack, help yourself." John turned to walk away, but quickly turned back. "Stay out of the beer, though, you hear?" he said sternly.

"Yes, sir."

Once John left the room, Dean turned the television back on. But, instead of watching, he started planning what he was going to do to help his dad. There was no way he wasn't going to not worry about it. John was still recovering and Dean knew he shouldn't be hunting alone.

* * *

Bobby returned several hours later with several large pizzas and root beer for the boys. He also had several books and a stack of papers in his hand. After settling the boys at the table, the two hunters retired to the study, anxious to figure out what was going on.

"Did you find out anything significant?" John immediately asked.

"A few things. Apparently, there used to be an orphanage on the grounds where the fun center now sits. It was opened in 1891 and destroyed by a fire in 1896. Forty-three children died in the fire, along with the school marm and a cook."

"Forty-three kids? And only two adults? I can barely handle the two I have."

"There were rumors that the children were treated awful in that place. Lots of talk of abuse and neglect. No one seemed to care, though, so nothing was ever done about it."

"The young mother at the fun center said that the woman who grabbed her daughter was wearing a long skirt with an apron and had her hair in a tight….uh, bun, I think she said. Sound like a school marm to you?"

"That's what I think when I think of a school marm," Bobby said. "And if this school marm abused and neglected the kids, she'd most likely be the kind to stick around and cause more trouble as a spirit."

"Exactly! Was her body recovered from the fire? Do we know that?" John asked.

"The article says _no one_ was recovered. The orphanage burned to the ground and the only building left standing was the stable."

"What are we supposed to do with that? We can't salt and burn her if she was practically cremated."

"I'm guessing there's something else that was left of hers. Maybe something in the stable?"

"But, I'm guessing the stable isn't still standing, right? It's been almost a hundred years since the fire and I don't remember seeing a stable anywhere around when we were there."

"Do you remember seeing a museum next to the fun center?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah. I remember thinking that Sammy would probably love it there. Do you think there might be something that belongs to her there?"

"It's the best idea we have," Bobby answered. "I'll head out there tomorrow morning."

" _I'll_ head out there tonight. I want to check the place out when it's empty."

"John, you should stay here with the boys. I can handle it."

"And I said I'll head out tonight. As soon as the boys are asleep."

Bobby knew there was no sense in arguing with the man. Once John Winchester made up his mind, there was no changing it.

* * *

Dean made his way back into the kitchen after listening in on the conversation between his dad and Uncle Bobby. He was relieved that he made it back without getting caught, knowing how his dad felt about eavesdropping. Once he was settled back at the table, he couldn't stop thinking about what he had learned. _His father was leaving tonight. To hunt alone._ Dean knew he couldn't let the man go by himself. He needed someone to watch his back, just in case something happened. And there was no way Dean was going to let anything else happen to his dad.

With the wheels turning inside his head, Dean ate the rest of the pizza on his plate and drained his glass of root beer. Looking over at his brother, he couldn't help but laugh at the pizza sauce that covered his face.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked.

"You!" Dean laughed. "Did you get any of that pizza in your mouth?"

"I ate two whole pieces!"

"And you're wearing another piece on your face!"

"I am not!" Sam cried, not liking the fact that his brother was laughing at him.

"Are, too!"

"Am not!

"Are, too!"

"AM NOT!" Sam yelled as loudly as he could. Unfortunately, John chose that moment to walk into the kitchen.

"Hey! Why are you two yelling at each other?!" he asked as he glared at his sons.

"Dean's laughing at me!" Sam answered angrily.

"I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were! You said I was wearing a piece of pizza on my face and I'm not!"

John wanted to laugh, too, but knew he needed to take control of the situation. "I think Dean was just trying to tell you that you have pizza sauce on your face, Sammy. Dean, why don't you take him up for a bath? And apologize for laughing at him," he threw in sternly.

"Sorry, Sammy. I really wasn't laughing at you. I just thought it was funny that you had so much sauce on your face, that's all."

"I forgive you, Dean. But now you have to read me two bedtime stories tonight."

"Deal, little brother," Dean answered as he grabbed Sam's hand and led him upstairs.

* * *

By the time they were done with Sam's bath and Dean's shower, it was almost eight o'clock. The boys were heading back down the stairs to watch television when John met them at the bottom.

"Time for bed, boys," he said, knowing full well they were going to put up a fight. What he didn't know, though, was that Dean was anxious to get Sammy to sleep so he could initiate his plan to sneak out to the Impala before his dad left.

"I'm not tired, Daddy," Sam said, his words interrupted by a big yawn.

"I can see that," John laughed. "But, even so, I want you in bed, Sam. It's been a long day."

John looked over at Dean, expecting him to balk at the idea of going to bed so early. Instead, he watched as Dean let out a big yawn, too.

"C'mon, Sammy. I'm tired anyway and I owe you two stories, remember?"

John followed Sam and Dean up the stairs and watched them climb into bed. Dean reached over and grabbed two books that were sitting on the bedside table, opened them up, and started reading. John sat down in the chair next to the bed, enjoying watching and hearing his oldest read the stories to his youngest. Sam held onto every word his brother said and Dean made sure to make the story as interesting as he could, using different voices for the different characters and making sound effects when needed. John relished the sound of Sam's laughter and Dean's slightly deeper than normal voice, realizing with a pang of both pride and sadness that Dean was growing up. It wouldn't be too much longer before the boy was old enough to join him on a hunt and that thought both excited and terrified him.

Once Dean was done, Sam's eyes were barely open and his breathing was soft and regular. Dean put the books back on the table and rolled over onto his side, facing his little brother. John stood up from his chair and leaned over the bed, placing a kiss on Sam's forehead before moving over to Dean.

"Goodnight, kiddo," he said as he straightened back up.

"Goodnight, Dad," Dean answered, letting his eyes close as if he were actually falling asleep. A few minutes later, the lights went off and he heard the door open and close gently. He laid there as still as he could for almost fifteen minutes before he climbed out of the bed, shoving his pillow down under the blanket to make it look like he was still in bed in case anyone looked in on them.

Once he had changed back into a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and his coat, he put his shoes on and made his way over to the window. He knew there was no way he was going to be able to go through the house to get outside without someone catching him, so the window was his only option. He had crawled out of this particular window one other time, so he knew it was possible to get down that way.

It only took him a few minutes to climb out onto the roof and over to the tree that was right next to the house. Grabbing on tightly to the branch that was hanging over the roof, he made his way to the trunk of the tree and down the branches. The last ten feet, he shimmied down the trunk until his feet finally touched the ground.

Seconds later, he looked over at the house, making sure no one was looking out the window or coming out the front door. When he saw that the coast was clear, he made his way over to the Impala, hoping that his father hadn't taken the blanket they had used earlier on the way home. Once he opened the back door, he noticed that the blanket was still there. Climbing into the Impala's back seat and closing the door as quietly as he could, he nestled down into the floorboard behind the driver's seat, thinking it less likely that his father would see him there.

He knew he would be in big, big trouble if his father found him, but he didn't care. _He had to be there to protect his dad, if needed._ It didn't matter that his dad would more than likely dole out the worst spanking he had ever had if he got caught. It didn't matter.

And so he waited.

* * *

Author's note: Dean, Dean, Dean….. what are you thinking? This can't possibly turn out good, right?

Thanks for reading, everyone. And for sticking with this story. I should have a new chapter of _Raising Winchesters_ up soon, too, just so you know.


	28. Into the Black

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 28

Into the Black

* * *

Dean didn't know how long they had been in the car, but it seemed like forever. He was still hunkered down in the floor board of the back seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. He was also trying to be as quiet as possible, but he was pretty sure his dad could hear the loud rumbling of his hungry stomach above the classic rock that was blasting through the speakers.

He had no idea how far away the fun center was. All he knew was that this trip seemed to be taking ten times as long as the first time, probably because he was scared and didn't have Sam there to distract him from the monotony of the passing miles and the fear of getting caught.

Just as he thought he would scream from a cramp that was tearing his leg apart, the Impala stopped. He held his breath as he listened to his dad turn off the engine and open the doors. Dean prayed that the man wouldn't look in the back seat and felt relief shoot through him as John walked straight to the trunk. With his dad occupied with the task of sorting through the weapons in the trunk, Dean straightened out his legs, trying to alleviate the cramp. His eyes were watering and he wanted nothing more than to climb out of the car and stand up straight. But he waited.

Eventually, John shut the trunk and Dean could hear his footsteps fading away. He gave himself another fifteen seconds before he pulled himself up onto the back seat and looked out the window. He looked just in time to see his dad picking the lock on the side door and slipping through it.

Gathering up all of his courage, Dean opened the door and stepped out into the cold night air. A shiver ran through him as he pondered his next step. A few seconds later, he decided there was nothing else to do but follow his dad into the building. _He came to help, to be back-up for his dad if he needed it, and that was exactly what he was going to do._

* * *

John spent the drive back to the fun center thinking about everything that had recently happened. He still felt guilty for punishing Dean for something he didn't do and he was sure that his apology wasn't actually good enough, but he was trying not to dwell on it. Dean wasn't used to hearing the words "I'm sorry" come out of his father's mouth, so it would just have to do.

As he drove with the music blaring out of the car speakers, John thought about the night ahead. He was pretty sure that he could handle this particular ghost without too much trouble, but he also knew to never underestimate an angry spirit. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted, yet his mind kept wandering to his sons.

It had been almost two months since he had pulled Sam and Dean out of school because of the shapeshifter. He didn't really put a lot of stock into conventional education, but he knew that he needed to get them back into school eventually. Dean didn't really like going to school, so he probably wasn't minding the extended vacation. Sam, on the other hand, always loved going to school. He was surprised that the boy hadn't already started questioning when they would be going back, actually. And the last thing he needed was for anyone to get suspicious about why his kids weren't in school.

The problem, though, was that John didn't want to let the boys out of his sight, not trusting anyone other than himself or Bobby to keep them out of danger. He knew that it was just a matter of time before something he hunted followed him back to his kids again and he planned on being there the next time it happened. He couldn't….wouldn't let anything hurt his boys.

He was relieved when he finally made it back to the fun center. Something was causing him to feel a little off…..uneasy….and he wanted to get back to Bobby's as soon as possible. John sometimes had a sixth sense about things and he had learned to trust the feeling. If he felt off about a situation, there was probably something off about the situation.

Looking at his watch, he realized it was almost midnight and he couldn't stop the yawn that escaped him. Turning off the car, he quickly got out and made his way to the trunk to load up his weapons. Once that was all settled, he made his way over to the building's side door, quickly picked the lock, and entered the building, eager to get the job over with.

In his haste, he completely missed the head of his oldest son peeking over the backseat of the Impala.

* * *

Bobby didn't know what it was that woke him up from a dead sleep. He had gone to bed an hour before, eager to catch up on the sleep he had been missing out on ever since the Winchesters had shown up on his doorstep. He had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Sitting up in the bed, he looked around the room and listened closely to the sounds of the house. When he didn't hear anything unusual, he laid back down on the bed for several seconds. Eventually, though, he realized his gut was telling him to go check on Sam and Dean.

Without wasting another second, Bobby climbed out of bed and made his way down the hall to the room the boys were sharing. His stomach was twisting and turning and he suddenly found himself feeling short of breath as panic filled his body. He had no idea why he thought something was wrong. _He just knew._

Once he reached the boys' room, he flung the door open, wishing that he had brought a weapon of some sort with him, just in case. _And he called himself a hunter_.

At first glance, it looked like there were two small bodies snuggled under the blankets on the bed, but when he stepped closer, he suddenly realized that he was only seeing one head of hair on the pillows. He didn't even stop to think that he might wake whichever Winchester boy was under the blanket when he flung it off the bed. Fortunately, Sam didn't even budge at the sudden loss of the weight of the blanket or the coldness of the room.

"Damn it!" Bobby swore when he realized that Dean was nowhere in sight. "Damn it all to hell! Where are you, boy?"

He made his way through the room, checking the closet and under the bed, before moving out to check the rest of the house. Several minutes later, he had searched the whole house without finding Dean. He headed back up to their bedroom, hoping to find something that would clue him in on where Dean was. Upon entering the room again, Bobby suddenly realized that it was much too cold. He made his way over to the window and wasn't surprised to see that it was open about three inches.

Bobby opened the window up far enough that he could lean out and check the window sill. When he didn't see any signs of forced entry, his panic shifted to make room for the anger that suddenly suffused him at the realization that Dean had more than likely left of his own free will.

He had no idea where the boy would have gone, though. Or why he would have left in the first place.

Knowing that he needed to check outside, Bobby made his way back to his bedroom to put on some pants and grab his shoes. He also grabbed his phone, knowing that if he didn't find any sign of Dean out in the yard, he would have to call John.

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

After a fast, but thorough search of the yard, garage, and sheds, Bobby returned to the house. He checked on Sam again, relieved to see that the boy was still sleeping, and then returned to his room. He quickly dialed John's number, not really expecting the man to answer the phone since he was on a hunt, but cursing anyway when the man's voicemail picked up.

"John, it's Bobby. Dean's gone. I can't find him anywhere, so you call me as soon as you get this message."

After ending the call, Bobby sank back down on the bed, silently cursing the day he first laid eyes on John Winchester.

* * *

John easily figured out that there wasn't any kind of alarm or camera system at the fun center, so he immediately made his way forward. The building was cold enough that he wished he had left his coat on, but he hated hunting with one on. He wanted to be free to move more easily if needed, so whenever he hunted inside he would leave his coat behind.

He turned on an overhead light and looked around the large room, taking in any unusual dark shapes or shadows that he found along the way. When everything in the main room looked clear, he made his way over to the women's bathroom, knowing that the spirit had attacked at least one person there recently. The first thing he noticed when he entered the room was how much colder it was. So cold, in fact, that he could see his breath hanging in the air and the mirrors were frosted over with ice.

Wishing again that he had kept his coat on, John made his way further into the rather large bathroom and started checking the stalls. Of course, he didn't find anything until he got to the very last stall. And it wasn't really that he found it at all. Just as he was about to swing the door open, the door flew inward and a dark shape leapt out at him, knocking him to the ground.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" a loud voice screeched right behind him. John scrambled to his feet, catching himself against the wall as he tried to balance himself. He stood up straight just in time to have the paper towel dispensers on the wall come rushing at him, one hitting his chest and the other glancing off of his left shoulder. The lights were flickering and the ghost continued to screech, causing a weird sense of disorientation to overcome him. He quickly regained his bearings, though, and started moving away from the spirit, but before he could make his move, she vanished.

John bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He eventually stood back up and ran his fingers over his chest, checking for bleeding or broken ribs. He was pretty sure that nothing was broken, but he would definitely have some bruised ribs to contend with. Stepping over to the sink, he turned on the faucet and cupped some water in his hand. After gulping down several handfuls of the cold water, he headed for the door.

He knew he should have gone straight to the museum to see if there was anything belonging to the spirit there that would be tying her to the area, but he had first wanted to confirm that his suspicions were even correct. Now that he knew that they were, his next order of business was to break into the museum to check it out.

John opened the bathroom door and looked around. He wasn't surprised to see that the lights were off again, but fortunately he had a flashlight with him. Turning the light on- which immediately began to flicker, but didn't go completely out- John made his way back through the large room. He was almost to the door when he felt the air chill again and he quickly turned around, checking all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something flying at him and he immediately ducked. Whatever it was missed him by only a few inches, but before he could think about how close it was, a nearby table flew forward and shoved him to the wall, pinning him against it tightly. His shotgun was ripped from his hands at the same time, flying several feet away from him, and he suddenly found himself completely helpless.

He struggled to push the table away, but knew that there was little chance at the moment of making it work. The spirit moved steadily closer to him and he struggled to reach the shotgun, but it was too far out of his reach. He had no idea what the spirit was planning to do to him and could only watch in terror as she drew steadily closer.

She was mere inches away from him when John saw something moving behind her. He couldn't make out what it was through the darkness, but seconds later he heard a voice that nearly stilled his heart.

"Leave him alone! Get away from my dad, you ugly woman!"

A mere instant later, the carousel started up and the lights flickered on, and John found himself watching in horror as the spirit turned away from him and turned to face his son.

* * *

Dean made his way into the building, keeping as quiet as he possibly could. He tried to ignore the fear that filled him as he walked through the dark room. He couldn't see or hear his father at the moment. As he stepped through the room, his eyes moved back and forth, taking in everything around him. His dad always told him that he had to stay vigilant on a hunt, and even though he really didn't know what that meant, he thought it probably meant to pay close attention to everything around you.

He wished that he had thought to grab a weapon out of the car before following his dad, but he would just have to make do with the baggie of salt he had grabbed from the glove compartment of the Impala. He was almost to the science lab area when he heard noises coming from the bathroom area. He wanted to go over to help his dad, but his feet wouldn't seem to move and his heart was beating painfully in his chest. Dean hadn't ever been on a real hunt before, and he suddenly found that he was terrified.

Trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate down, Dean felt tears fill his eyes. He needed to help his dad, but he was frozen with fear and doubt. He couldn't make his feet move. He couldn't call out for his dad. All he could do was stand there, staring at the bathroom door, and listen to the sounds of a spirit attacking his father, knowing the whole time that his father would be so disappointed to know that he was such a coward.

In what seemed like an eternity later, the sounds from the bathroom stopped and Dean saw a shadow move through the door. He knelt down behind the counter, listening for anything that might tell him what the spirit was doing. It wasn't too much longer before he heard the bathroom door open and could make out the sound of his father moving through the room. He wanted nothing more than to run to his dad and beg him to hold him, but Dean stayed his ground.

Dean waited where he was, but when he heard the sound of something clattering in the general direction of his father, he stood up and peeked over the counter. He watched in horror as his dad was suddenly pinned up against the wall by a table and he stepped out from behind the counter when he saw the spirit start to advance towards the man.

He knew that neither his father nor the ghost had seen him yet, so he cautiously made his way closer. He was almost directly behind the spirit when he noticed John's shotgun a few feet away. Changing directions, he made his way over to the gun and picked it up. He had just gotten it settled in his hands when he noticed the spirit moving closer to his dad, and without a second thought, he brought the shotgun up and aimed it at her.

"Leave him alone! Get away from my dad, you ugly woman!" he yelled as forcefully as he could. And when she turned and started to advance on him, he pulled the trigger, filling her full of rock salt.

* * *

Author's note: I hope the different viewpoints weren't too confusing to read. And I warned you that I wasn't good at writing action scenes, lol.

Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. You guys are amazing.


	29. No End of Trouble

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 29

No End of Trouble

* * *

The sound of the gunshot reverberated through the building and John felt a sudden wave of nausea overtake him. He had recognized his son's voice, of course, but he still thought his eyes were playing tricks on him as he took in the small form before him. _How did Dean get here?_

Dean was just standing there, eyes wide open, hands shaking slightly as he held onto the gun. John could tell the kid was in a mild state of shock, so he put aside his own panic and fear, and made his way over to him. Just as he was a step away, Dean suddenly threw himself forward, nearly jumping into John's arms. John could feel the tremors that were coursing through the small body.

"Dean? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" John ran his hands over Dean, looking for any signs of injury or trauma and was surprised when Dean continued to hang onto him as tightly as he could. John tried to pull himself free enough to be able to take the gun from the boy, but his arms were pinned to his side by Dean's own arms.

"Dean? Let go, son," he tried, but Dean's grasp didn't loosen. "DEAN!" he finally yelled. He was actually surprised when Dean's arms fell to his side and he took a step back. John reached down and quickly grabbed the gun. He looked around the building, searching for any signs of the spirit, before turning back to his son. "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?"

Dean stared at John for several long seconds before giving his head a slight shake. Suddenly, his eyes seemed clearer and he stood up straighter.

"Dad?"

John didn't have time to answer his son because all of a sudden the temperature dropped and the spirit rushed at them again. He quickly pushed Dean behind him and raised the gun up, getting off a shot just as she was mere inches away from them. Once he was sure she had disappeared again, he pulled Dean out from behind him and started walking to the door, his hand never letting go of Dean's arm.

Wasting no time at all, John dragged Dean back to the Impala, opened the door, and nearly shoved Dean into the front seat. "Stay here!" he ordered. "Don't even set one foot outside this car, do you hear me?"

"But, Dad….I can help," Dean tried.

"I mean it, Dean. Stay in the car or so help me God….." John didn't have the time to explain to the boy what would happen if he disobeyed. Instead, he gave Dean a long look that he hoped conveyed everything he needed it to. When he saw a look of resignation cross his son's face, he shut the door and stepped back to the trunk. Seconds later, he held two canisters of salt in his hands and he quickly outlined the whole car in a ring of salt. Once that was done, he chanced another look at Dean and then turned and walked toward the museum.

* * *

Dean knew he was in a ton of trouble, but he didn't care. If he hadn't shown up when he did, his dad would probably be dead, so he didn't regret his choices at all. Of course, he knew he'd probably be regretting them a lot once they got home and his father was ready to deal with is disobedience, but he didn't want to think about that at the moment.

Looking out the window, he followed the dark shape of his dad as he made his way back toward the fun center. Dean was surprised when John walked past the building and headed to another building that was just past it. As he tried to figure out what his dad was doing, he remembered Bobby saying something about a museum close by and how there might be something there that was holding the ghost to the area. He felt a shiver run through him at the thought of his father facing the ghost alone and his fingers itched to grab the door handle and open the door.

But, he stayed.

Dean looked out the back window, his eyes never leaving the building that John had eventually entered. He rolled down the window, hoping to be able to hear if his father called for help. Not that he expected John Winchester to call out for help, especially knowing his eleven year old son would be the only one to hear him.

He had no idea how much time had passed, really. It seemed like his Dad had been gone for hours, leaving Dean alone to worry and fret over everything that had happened so far. In actuality, though, it had probably been only thirty to forty minutes since the man had slipped through the museum door.

Dean waited a little longer before a more pressing need made itself known. He had to go pee. He waited and waited for as long as he could, but eventually he couldn't wait any longer. With one look back at the museum, Dean opened the door and slipped out of the Impala. Of course, the Impala was the only car in the parking lot, but he didn't feel comfortable relieving himself right out in the open.

After taking a quick look around, he noticed a small copse of trees across the road they had driven in on. Happy to see that it was far enough away from the fun center and museum, Dean quickly made his way across the road and into the small grove.

He knew his father would be mad at him for stepping foot outside of the car, but he really hoped he would understand why he did it. _When a man's gotta go, a man's gotta go, right?_

Once he was a few feet into the small grove of trees, Dean went about his business rather quickly. He couldn't help the feeling that something was watching him and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back inside the Impala, safe inside the salt circle his father had laid down. Dean was just pulling his zipper up when he heard two things….. First, the sound of someone wailing in anger and second, the sound of his father yelling his name. Dean felt his stomach drop and fear shot through him, more because of the fact that his dad knew he had gotten out of the car than anything else. Taking a deep breath, he turned and made his way back over to the road, trying to garner his strength to face up to a pissed off John Winchester.

* * *

John quickly made his way into the museum, taking one last look back at the Impala to see Dean's head popping up over the seat before opening the side door and making his way inside. He was relieved to find that the temperature seemed normal and that there were no other signs of the spirit at the moment.

Luckily, the museum wasn't very big or very crowded, so he easily made his way through each exhibit, keeping his eyes open for anything that might be related to the orphanage and its occupants. He had just made it to the back of the museum when he saw a picture that looked like the one Bobby had shown him earlier. Stepping into the little alcove where the picture was hanging, John quickly noticed that there were several other pictures of the orphanage hanging up. He looked closely at each one of them and didn't have any trouble at all finding what he was looking for. One picture showed the barn that Bobby had shown him. Next to this picture was a cabinet that was shelving items that were obviously from that barn. John studied the picture again, trying to make out the group of people in the background. The photo was grainy and old, so it was really hard to make out details, but eventually John saw something that he hoped would help him.

The group of people in the photo were all standing off to the side of the barn and they were all wearing riding gear. It didn't take long for John to hone in on the schoolmarm, realizing immediately that she was indeed their angry spirit. As he looked at her, he quickly took in the clothes she was wearing, hoping to find something of interest. It only took him a few seconds to realize that she was wearing riding gloves and riding boots. It took him even less time to notice that the barn wasn't exactly in the same place that the museum was now, like they had previously thought. In fact, the barn looked to be on the other side of the (then nonexistent) road they had driven in on. The road right next to the parking lot where he had just left his son.

The need to check on Dean nearly overwhelmed him, but John knew that he needed to do what he had set out to do first. Stepping over to the cabinet, he looked closely at each item, hoping to find what he was looking for. And he couldn't believe his eyes when he saw several pairs of riding gloves and boots on the bottom shelf of the cabinet.

He knew it was a pretty far-fetched idea that the spirit had left something of herself behind in either the gloves or the boots that was now allowing her free reign over the area, but it was the only idea he had at the moment. As he gathered the items off the bottom shelf, he found himself growing suspicious of the fact that the spirit had yet to make herself known again. In his experience, spirits were usually protective of the thing that tethered them to the place they were haunting. _So, why wasn't this spirit pissed off that John was doing what he was doing?_

Just as that thought entered his mind, he saw a flickering form take shape in front of him. Before he could swing his gun around, the ghost rushed him, somehow knocking him back into the cabinet. John braced himself once he hit the ground, knowing that the cabinet was probably going to fall over on top of him, and that he wouldn't be able to stop it or get out of its way fast enough. But the cabinet stayed standing.

Attempting to pull himself up, he frantically looked around for the spirit, hoping to head off her next attack. At the same time, he was looking for the things that had been knocked out of his hands when he was pushed over. He still held on to one pair of gloves, but the other pair of gloves and the boots had been ripped from his hands as the ghost rushed through him. John noticed one of the gloves a few feet away, but both boots and the other glove were nowhere to be found.

Eventually, he spied what looked like the toe of a boot hiding in the shadows of the cabinet, but before he could reach for it, he heard the wailing of the spirit and felt the wind rushing towards him again. Looking up and trying to prepare himself for the next assault, John was surprised when the spirit stopped her forward motion, seemingly listening to something that he couldn't hear, before suddenly fading away.

John moved as fast as he could to grab the boots. He had a bad feeling that the ghost was going after Dean, and although he had given strict orders for the boy to stay inside the car, he wouldn't put it past him to disobey. _That kid had a mind of his own sometimes_. Not taking the time to look for the other glove, John turned and ran towards the front of the building. As soon as he opened the door, he saw that the door to the Impala was open and that his son was no longer inside.

Cursing loudly, he ran forward, his eyes searching everywhere for the spirit and for Dean. Just as he reached the Impala, he yelled for Dean as loudly as he could. His son's name carried in the night, but was overtaken by the angry wail of the schoolmarm. John turned and ran in the direction of the wail, but faltered just a few seconds later when he saw Dean coming out of the woods across the road.

Even though he knew the spirit would get to Dean before him, John took off running again, as fast as he could, his heart pounding painfully in his chest and his lungs burning with each breath.

* * *

Dean had just made it out of the woods when he noticed a strange shape coming towards him. It didn't take long for him to realize that it was the spirit they were hunting. It took him even less time to realize that he was really, truly in danger. And not just from his dad.

He started running away from the apparition, making his way diagonally through the grass to get to the road, all the time knowing that the spirit was moving much faster than he was. He made it to the edge of the road and had just noticed his dad running towards him, when he felt something pulling on his coat. He fought to pull himself away, but the spirit was too strong for him. Dean was pulled to a complete stop and a shiver ran through him as he felt the coldness surrounding him.

In just a matter of seconds, he felt his energy draining away from him, but he tried with all his might to pull away from the cold hands that were holding on to him. To his dismay, he couldn't break free, and all he got for his endeavor was the feel of one of the cold hands reaching up and grabbing him by his ear. Now, with one icy hand holding onto his arm and the other one painfully squeezing his ear, Dean felt himself being dragged, up on his tip-toes, back towards the woods.

The air around him was so cold that he wasn't able to call out for his dad or to even catch his breath. But, he knew his dad was coming. And he knew that his dad would do whatever it took to save him.

* * *

John watched in horror as the spirit caught up with Dean and started dragging him back into the woods. He was running as fast as he could, but it felt like he was stuck in molasses. "DEAN!" he yelled, wanting his boy to know that he was coming for him.

His lungs felt like they were on fire, but John didn't stop running. He knew that he needed to somehow stop the spirit from making it all the way into the woods, but he felt like he was continuously losing ground. Bringing his gun up, he tried to sight in on the ghost while still running, but that only resulted in him stumbling over a rock and almost falling.

Just when he was about to scream in frustration, an opportunity presented itself. John could tell that the spirit was holding on tightly to Dean's arm and to his ear, dragging the boy forward with his feet barely reaching the ground. Dean stumbled occasionally, too, but the spirit's grip didn't falter. They were almost through the first row of trees when Dean's legs completely gave out and he started to fall. In that barest second of time that Dean pulled away from the spirit, John raised his gun up and pulled the trigger, hoping with everything he had that his aim was true.

Relief shot through him when the ghost dissipated with another angry wail, but he wasted no time in running to his son.

"Dean! Dean, are you okay?" he asked desperately as he knelt down beside his son.

Just like before, Dean grabbed onto his father and buried his face in his chest. John held on with one hand while he used his other one to check Dean for injuries. Not seeing anything obvious, he gently probed Dean's extremities. He wasn't surprised when Dean cried out when he was checking his knee.

"Ow!" Dean cried loudly.

"Is it your knee?" John asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean moaned.

John moved his arm and gently repositioned Dean, grabbing him under the thighs and arms gently. Pulling himself to his feet, he tucked Dean in as tightly as he could to his chest. Once he was standing straight up, he realized that he had left his gun on the ground.

"Dean, I've got you, son, but I need you to do something for me, okay? I'm going to bend over and I need you to pick up my gun. Can you do that?"

"I th-think so," Dean stuttered.

"Okay, here we go." John leaned over, still holding Dean tightly to his chest. He felt Dean turning outward slightly and heard a small whimper. When Dean had the gun in his hand, John straightened up. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly. "My knee just hurts a little, but I'm okay."

"Let's get back to the car and I'll fix your knee up."

"I wanna go home," Dean answered immediately. "Dad, can't we just go home?"

John looked down at Dean, noticing for the first time how pale the boy looked. He didn't answer as they walked, choosing instead to keep his eyes open for the return of the spirit. Luckily, they made it back to the Impala without the spirit reappearing.

John opened up the door to the back seat and laid Dean gently onto the seat. Grabbing his jacket, he placed it under Dean's head, propping him up as much as he could. Then he grabbed the blanket that Dean had earlier been hiding under and folded it up, making a makeshift pillow to prop his leg up. Once he was done, he went back to the trunk and grabbed a second blanket, the first aid kit, and a bottle of water. He covered Dean up with the second blanket and opened up the first aid kit. After rummaging through it to find some of the children's Tylenol he usually kept in there, he handed Dean the pills and the bottle of water. "Here you go, son."

Dean took the pills and swallowed them. Half-expecting his dad to start yelling at him for all of the bad choices he had made, he was surprised when John just closed the door.

"I'll be right back," John said as he started walking back towards the road. Dean watched as he bent over and picked up what looked like a pair of boots and a glove. When he got back to the car, John opened the trunk again and threw the items in.

Once he was settled back in the driver's seat, he looked back at Dean to check on him. "Still okay?"

Dean nodded, but followed it up with a quiet "Yes, sir."

John started up the car and pulled out onto the road, wanting to put as much distance as he could between his son and that spirit. He had barely made it onto the road when Dean spoke again.

"What about the ghost, Dad? Did you get her?"

John's face clouded over in anger. He hated leaving a job without finishing it, especially when what they were hunting was dangerous. He knew he'd have to drop Dean off at Bobby's and make his way back to take care of the ghost before she could hurt anyone else.

"No, Dean. I didn't _get_ her." Unable to hold it in any longer, he exploded. "What in the hell were you doing there, Dean?! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? I left you at Bobby's, where you'd be safe, but you took it upon yourself to sneak out and hitch a ride? What were you thinking?!"

Dean didn't know how to put it into words how worried he was that John was going on the hunt by himself, so he didn't say anything at all.

"You have nothing to say for yourself?" John asked angrily. "Well, you have three hours to think about it, little boy, because once we get back to Bobby's, you and I are gonna have a real serious talk. And my mouth isn't the only thing that's gonna be doing the talking."

* * *

Author's note: Another attempt at some action, folks. I hope it read well for you. And how mad do you all think John really is or should be? Oh, and the next chapter will have a little bit of Bobby and Sam in it, too, just so you know. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts/ideas.


	30. Some Nights

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 30

Some Nights

* * *

Author's note: Well, I noticed a rather glaring mistake in my last chapter, so I fixed it and re-posted. Sorry for not being more attentive. I can only claim holiday exhaustion as my excuse, lol.

* * *

John Winchester was pretty sure that he hadn't ever been as scared as he was when he saw his eleven year old son facing off against a ghost. Or as angry. He was pretty sure he had aged at least twenty years in that single moment. He couldn't believe that Dean had stowed away in the Impala in the first place. _What was the boy thinking?! Didn't he have any idea how dangerous and unpredictable an angry spirit could be?_

To top it all off, the boy had disobeyed him, too. John couldn't believe Dean had gotten out of the car after he had ordered him to stay inside. He disobeyed a direct order _and_ he put himself in terrible danger. The more John thought about it, the angrier he became.

Looking in the rearview mirror, his anger waned a tiny bit at the sight of his first-born son. He could tell by the pinched look on the boy's face that he was in pain and John hoped that Dean's knee wasn't actually broken. He could also tell that the boy was scared. Terrified, in fact. John couldn't help but feel partially responsible for that terror, knowing that the boy wasn't just afraid of his experience with the ghost, but that he was also afraid of how angry his father was.

But, John also knew that he had every right to be angry with Dean. The kid had broken so many rules- sneaking out of the house, stowing away in the car, hiding in the backseat, sneaking into the building, picking up the loaded shotgun, and then getting out of the car when he had been told to stay inside. His poor choices could have led to serious consequences.

After hitting a particularly nasty pothole in the road, John looked back to check on his son. He could tell that they boy was holding back his tears, trying with everything he had not to give in to the misery he was feeling.

"How's your knee, Dean?" he finally asked.

"It's okay," Dean replied so quietly that John barely heard him.

"Did the medicine help any?"

"A little," Dean admitted.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, son? We still have another two hours before we get back to Bobby's and it's way past your bedtime."

"I don't wanna sleep," Dean answered immediately.

John wasn't surprised that the boy was still terrified. Although, he knew all about spirits and ghosts, Dean hadn't ever been directly exposed to one. Until now. "Dean, it's okay. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything hurt you."

Dean looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Instead, he grabbed the blanket that his father had given him and wrapped himself up even tighter. With one last glance at his dad through the rear view mirror, he finally closed his eyes, allowing the purr of the engine and the sounds of the tires on the asphalt to lull him into a restless sleep.

* * *

Dean had no idea how long he had been asleep, but he really didn't think it had been that long. The nightmare that woke him still lingered in his mind and he wished that he could climb into the front seat and sit next to his dad. But, one look at his dad through the rearview mirror made him think that he was much safer in the back seat.

Dean knew he had messed up and he knew that his dad was really, really mad at him, but he didn't really regret his decision. No matter what his dad said, Dean knew that he had saved the man by being there. The ghost surely would have done something awful to John if he hadn't been there to help him.

Of course, Dean knew that that knowledge wasn't enough to keep him from taking a more than memorable trip over his dad's knee once they were back at Bobby's. Or even worse, this might be the time that he was finally introduced to his dad's belt. After the last time he'd been punished for sneaking out of his classroom to check on Sam, his dad had told him that if he ever did something so careless again, he would experience his first whipping. He knew he was really in for it and for the first time in a long time, he was scared of what was going to happen.

There were only a few times in his life where he had truly been scared of how angry his father was. The first time was when he was seven years old and John caught him playing with his handgun. John had gone to the diner across the road to get them some food and Dean had noticed the gun sitting on top of his dad's journal by the bed. He knew he wasn't supposed to touch it, but his curiosity got the best of him. He had just picked it up and was pointing it at the lamp by the bed when John walked through the door. Dean remembered how his father had immediately dropped the bag of food as soon as he realized what his son was doing. Seconds later, the man was standing in front of him, grabbing the gun out of his hands in one swift motion, while yelling at him that he was never to touch a gun unsupervised again. In another swift motion, Dean suddenly found himself upended over the man's knee, staring at the stained carpet through blurry eyes as John spanked him harshly.

The second time he had been truly afraid of his father was the night of the Shtriga incident. Dean didn't like to think about that night because he knew how close he had come to letting his little brother be killed. He had known better than to leave the motel room that night, but he could remember how angry he had been that his dad had left him alone to take care of Sam again. They had been in the motel room for three whole days and Dean was tired of trying to keep his little brother entertained. He felt like he was climbing the walls.

Sam had been extra whiny that night and Dean found himself yelling at the poor kid several times. By the time Sam had fallen asleep, Dean was done. Sam had taken up all of his energy and he suddenly felt like he couldn't take one more minute locked up inside that room. After making sure that Sam was tucked in, the salt lines were intact on the door and window, and the door was locked, Dean made his way to the lobby of the motel where he had seen some arcade games. He knew he should have stayed in the motel room and he knew his dad expected him to watch over Sam, but for once in his life, Dean wanted to do something for himself.

That decision, of course, was one of the biggest regrets in his young life. He would never knowingly put his baby brother at risk, but that was exactly what he did. One selfish decision on his part had very nearly ruined his family. Dean would never forget the horror he felt when he let himself back into the motel room and saw the light on in the bedroom. He would never forget the sheer terror he felt when he heard the whispering susurrations coming from the room where Sammy was sleeping.

Dean remembered picking up the shotgun as he pushed the door open further and he remembered freezing at the sight of the monster leaning over his brother. He remembered how he wanted so badly to pull the trigger of the gun, but his fingers were frozen. He remembered how his whole body seemed to be frozen in place, unable to move a single muscle until he heard the sound of his dad telling him to get out of the way. The sound of the bullets shattering the silence of the room as his dad fired on the monster was something he wouldn't ever forget.

But, most of all, he wouldn't ever forget the look of disappointment on his dad's face when he realized what Dean had done. After spending a few minutes making sure that Sam was okay, John had immediately instructed Dean to pack up everything and be ready to leave in twenty minutes. Dean hurried around the room, picking up everything he could find and stuffing it in the two duffels he and Sam carried. He spent almost three minutes looking for Sam's favorite sweatshirt, which happened to be a hand-me-down from his big brother, and another two minutes helping Sam get dressed for their departure.

The whole time Dean was doing that, he was barely keeping himself together. John had gone outside, probably to see if he could tell where the monster had gone, and when he finally returned, Dean could see that he was furious. John grabbed the bags in one hand, picked Sam up with the other, and stalked out the door, not bothering to look at his oldest son for a single second. Dean grabbed his own bag and slowly followed his dad out the door.

Once they were by the car, Dean climbed into the back seat, settling himself in next to Sam, who was yawning widely. He sat stiffly against the back of the seat, his eyes never leaving the floor until Sam curled up against him. The minute that happened, Dean looked at his little brother and couldn't take his eyes off of him. He put his arm around Sam and pulled the small body into his side as tightly as he could, feeling like he would never let go. Sam was still shaking slightly, but Dean suddenly realized that _he_ was shaking even more violently. He also realized that he was crying.

John's silence set a pall over the car. His disappointment in his oldest son was almost palpable and Dean felt himself suffocating under the heaviness of his failure. Minutes later, he couldn't seem to catch his breath and he suddenly found himself gasping for air as the tears ran down his face.

"Dean! Pull yourself together," John commanded as he glared at his son in the rearview mirror.

Dean tried, but he couldn't seem to do as his father ordered. Instead, the feeling of suffocating only intensified and he suddenly found himself getting dizzy and nauseous. He swallowed convulsively, trying to keep from throwing up, but eventually he figured out he was fighting a losing battle.

"Dad, pull over! I'm gonna be sick."

John immediately pulled the Impala over and before the car was even completely stopped, Dean opened the door and lurched out, falling to his knees on the side of the road. Seconds later, he was throwing up, emptying the meager contents of his stomach, heave after heave. His eyes were stinging with tears and his lungs were burning with the need for air, but his stomach wouldn't stop until there wasn't a thing left in it. Eventually, his body was wracked with dry heaves, leaving him breathless and shaky. Dean felt a sharp stab of pain when he realized that John was still sitting in the driver's seat, not seeming to care at all that his son was turning his stomach inside out. Usually, the man would be next to whatever kid was puking his guts out, rubbing their back and offering gentle words of support. But, not this time. This time, it seemed like the man couldn't care less about the pathetic plight of his son. And that realization had just about been more than Dean could handle.

Once he was finally able to stand again, albeit on extremely shaky legs, Dean pulled himself back into the car, and without a word, John started the engine and pulled back onto the road.

The rest of the trip had been made in complete silence and Dean couldn't help but feel relieved when they pulled into Bobby's salvage yard. He knew that the time was quickly approaching where he would pay for his misdeeds, but he didn't care. Although, he was scared of how angry his dad was, he felt like he deserved whatever punishment the man doled out. In fact, he was sure that he deserved even worse than whatever his dad had in mind. _He had almost let his brother be killed._

John waited almost three days before finally punishing Dean for the Shtriga incident. And Dean remembered it like it was yesterday. Now, he found himself in almost the same spot. John Winchester was beyond angry and Dean knew it was because he had put himself in danger. If there was one thing the man didn't abide by, it was one of his children putting themselves or the other in danger. And although Dean didn't really think he had been in any real danger, he knew that his dad saw it differently.

And that meant that Dean's backside would soon be paying the price.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so sorry for the long wait. Things have been a little busy lately and I haven't had much writing time. Hopefully, that's going to change soon (or at least after the holidays). Thank you all for sticking with the story. I'd love to hear what you think about this chapter.


	31. Long Way Down

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 31

Long Way Down

* * *

By the time John and Dean returned to the salvage yard, Bobby was pacing the hallway, trying to calm down a frantic Sam. From the second the little boy woke up to find Dean gone, Sam had been crying. He had, in fact, been wailing so loudly that Bobby's ears were hurting and his head felt like it might explode. The boy was inconsolable and Bobby found himself continually cursing John Winchester for not returning his calls.

Bobby was taken by surprise when the front door opened and John walked in carrying his oldest son. Sam's cries had been so loud that he hadn't heard the sound of the Impala pulling into the yard. And Sam was crying so hard that he hadn't even realized that his brother and father were home.

After several seconds of John and Dean calling Sam's name, he finally stopped wailing and turned to look at them. His small body was wracked with giant sobs and his face was red and wet from all the tears, but his eyes were fixated on his brother, who was equally fixated on him. John stepped closer to Sam, allowing Dean to reach out and grab his brother's hand.

Once Sam was a little more settled, John and Bobby settled both boys on the couch. Bobby could tell that Dean was in pain, but he had no idea where the boy was hurting. Taking solace in the fact that the pain seemed mostly under control, Bobby finally turned to John.

"What the hell, Winchester?! Do you have any idea how many times I've called you? Did you stop to think it might be prudent to tell me that Dean was with you? Sam's been freaking out for almost an hour now and I'm sure my hair's gone completely gray! Do you have any idea what went through my head when I woke up and found Dean gone? Do you?"

John held up both hands, hoping to get Bobby to calm down a little, but it didn't work. Bobby was angrier than John had ever seen him and it was a little scary. Before he said anything, Bobby turned to Dean and started in on him, too.

"Dean Winchester, what the hell were you thinking, boy?! You snuck out of my house and went off with your dad? Do you have any idea how scared I was when I couldn't find you? Or how scared Sammy was?"

Dean was pretty sure he hadn't ever seen his Uncle Bobby so angry and he really didn't know what to say. He knew his dad was furious with him, but the thought of Bobby being so angry and disappointed, too, was almost too much.

"I-I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I know I shouldn't have snuck out, but Dad needed my help."

Now it was John's turn to be angry. Or angrier, as the case may be. He turned towards his son, hands fisted at his side and face turning a shade of red that Dean hadn't ever seen before. "I didn't need your help, Dean. What I needed was the assurance that you and your brother were tucked safely in bed here in this house. That's what I needed. I could handle the damn ghost by myself!"

Dean started to argue with his dad, wanting to remind the man that he had saved him, but instead he quickly looked down at the blanket that was covering him and Sammy.

"Did you finish the job?" Bobby asked.

"What?" John asked, looking at the man as if he were crazy.

"Did you finish the job." Bobby repeated. "Is the job done?"

"No, it's not done," John growled. "I had to get Dean out of there, so I didn't finish. I have to go back."

"Dad, you can't!" Dean yelled, looking anxiously from his dad to his uncle. "She'll kill you!"

At Dean's words, Sam suddenly started crying again, although this time his tears were silent. Dean pulled his little brother in closer to him, feeling his little body shaking, as he held on tight.

"This doesn't concern you, Dean. And I can handle her just fine."

Bobby looked over at the boys before turning back to John. "Maybe we can discuss the hunt later, John," he suggested.

"There's nothing to discuss, Bobby. I need you to take a look at Dean's knee and then I'm heading back out. And this time, you'll keep your butt here, Dean. Got it?'

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

Bobby moved over to the couch, kneeling down by Dean's legs. "What happened to his knee?" he asked as he pulled the blanket away from the leg to check it out.

John looked over at Sam before speaking in a low enough voice that they boy couldn't hear him. "The spirit tried to drag him into the woods, but his legs gave out on him. I don't know if he twisted his knee in the process or if he just banged it on the ground when he landed, but it's been bothering him ever since. I don't think it's broken."

Dean winced as Bobby's rough hands palpated his knee. From where he was looking, he thought the knee was swollen a little and it definitely hurt, but he could handle it. Once Bobby was satisfied with his examination, he gave Dean a small smile.

"It's not broken, but it is a little swollen. I'd wager you twisted it enough to strain the ligaments a bit. It should heal up in a few weeks, good as new. In the meantime, you'll need to stay off of it for a few days. We'll ice it and wrap it and keep it elevated, okay? Sammy can be your gofer like he was a few months ago. You up for that, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Uncle Bobby," Sam yelled, before quickly asking "What's a gofer?"

Once Bobby explained it to him, Sam looked excitedly back to his brother. "I'll get you whatever you want, Dean!"

John, who still looked pretty pissed off, looked down at his watch. "If I leave now, I can hopefully take care of this thing before the fun center opens and be back here by lunchtime. Dean, when I get back, you and I are going to be having a long conversation, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

John's heart melted a little at the sadness and resignation he heard in his son's voice, but he didn't allow himself to give in. He had a right to be angry with his son and disappointed in the choices the boy had made. Dean deserved to be punished and John intended on making his displeasure well known. He couldn't have Dean running off like that again and putting himself in danger. The boy needed to learn.

"Okay. Bobby can you get the boys settled in bed?"

Bobby nodded at the man. "Be careful, John. And answer your damn phone if I call," he said angrily.

"Sorry about that, Bobby. Things kinda went all sorts of sideways and answering my phone was the last thing on my mind. To tell you the truth, I didn't even hear it ring."

"Well, make sure the damn ringer is turned up so that doesn't happen again."

John nodded and turned once again to his boys. "Behave yourselves," he said. "And Dean, stay off that leg and do what Bobby tells you, okay?"

Dean nodded, finding it hard to form words at the moment. He hated the thought of his dad going back there by himself, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"I-I'm really sorry, dad. For messing up your hunt," Dean finally said.

"We'll talk about it when I get back, okay? For now, you and Sammy need to get some sleep. I'll probably be home before you wake up."

Dean was surprised when his dad leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He watched as he did the same to Sam and then they both watched as John walked out the door. Bobby couldn't help but notice the look of fear and sadness on both of their faces and it nearly broke his heart.

"Come on, boys. Let's get you settled in bed and I'll bring you up some milk and cookies, okay?" He was rewarded with a smile from Sam, but the look on Dean's face didn't change. "He'll be okay, Dean. Your daddy is one of the best hunters I've ever known. He knows how to take care of himself."

Dean didn't answer, but allowed Bobby to pick him up and head towards the stairs. He watched as Sam followed after them, carrying the extra pillows they had used to prop his leg up the last time he was injured.

Once Bobby had them settled in bed, he stepped towards the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes, boys, with your milk and cookies."

Just before he left the room, Dean stopped him. "Uncle Bobby? I'm sorry for sneaking out. I-I just couldn't let Dad go back there on his own after….um, after…. You know, after what happened the last time he left."

Bobby sighed loudly before sitting down on the bed. Resting one hand on Dean's leg, he ran the other one over his face. "Dean, your daddy knows how to do his job. He can take care of himself."

"But, he can't, Uncle Bobby! He almost...," Dean looked over at his little brother, who was watching them closely and listening to every word they said. "He got hurt the last time, remember?"

"Dean, that last job was different. Your daddy knew that he needed help with that one, so he had Caleb and Bill backing him up. They were prepared for the job, but sometimes things happen that you can't prepare for. This job is much simpler and your daddy can handle it. He'll be okay."

Bobby wasn't surprised that Dean didn't look convinced at all. He could tell that the boy was really worried about his father and that worry was also affecting his little brother.

"I want Daddy," Sam suddenly said, his large eyes filling with tears.

Dean reached over as far as he could without jarring his knee and tried to pull Sam closer to him. "It's okay, Sammy. Uncle Bobby's right. Dad will be okay. He'll be home before we even wake up in the morning, okay?"

Now it was Sam's turn to look unconvinced, but after a few more words from Dean, he started to settle down. Bobby stood up from the bed, preparing to go back to the kitchen. "You boys still want a snack?" he asked.

"I think we'll just try to go to sleep, Uncle Bobby," Dean answered after seeing Sam's eyes drooping closed.

Bobby bent over to pull the blankets up around the boys. "Okay, when I wake up in the morning, I better find both of you still in this bed, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Goodnight, boys." Bobby stepped over to the door, taking one more look at the two brothers, before turning out the light and pulling the door closed. As he made his way back to his own room, his thoughts wandered to what John would soon be facing. He hoped that he hadn't lied to Sam and Dean about this job, but he knew that every hunt carried its own risks and dangers. _"Damn it, John…. You better get yourself back here in one piece,"_ he thought as he climbed back into his cold bed.

* * *

John barely made it back by the time he said he would, but at least he was making it back in one piece. The spirit had been a little more resilient and crafty than he expected, making John glad that he never came across her when she was alive. He could imagine the type of woman she was and it was a little sad to think about how she must have treated the children under her care.

With only a few scratches and bruises to deal with and nothing but open road before him, the drive home afforded him a lot of time to think about recent events. He was still completely dumbfounded by his oldest son's audacity and had no idea how to handle the situation. Dean had completely disobeyed him several times and had been cunning and devious in his planning of joining the hunt. Looking back on it, John remembered how easily Dean had accepted being sent to bed earlier than normal the night before. Usually, the boy would balk at being sent to bed so early, but he had obviously seen the advantage of getting Sam to sleep earlier so he could sneak out before John left.

But the disobedience and sneaking out wasn't what had John so angry. The biggest part of John's anger came from the fact that the boy had repeatedly put himself in danger. John couldn't help but think of all the things that could have happened to Dean. _What if Dean had fallen out of the window or the tree when he was sneaking out? What if John had wrecked the Impala on the way there and got out of the car without realizing that Dean was hiding in the backseat? What if Dean had missed when he fired at the spirit and she had attacked him before John could do anything? And what if John had missed when he fired at her? He could have accidentally shot his own son or the spirit could have whisked Dean away from him and he might never have seen the boy again._

The more John thought about what could have happened, the angrier he grew. Dean was coming to an age where he would start to question things more and make his own decisions a little more often. John knew that he needed to make sure Dean understood that every action had consequences and that he couldn't be so impulsive and reckless. The boy would someday make a great hunter, but those were characteristics that would be more harmful in the future. It was his responsibility as Dean's father to make sure the boy understood that.

 _But, how?_ John was already a pretty strict disciplinarian, and although his boys were more obedient than most, where it counted, he still struggled to come up with fair and just punishments. There were times where extra chores or extra training was an appropriate punishment. There were times where sending Sam to the corner or making Dean sit down and translate obscure Latin passages was adequate. And there were times where physical correction was what was needed.

John didn't enjoy spanking his children. In fact, it was the part of parenting that he despised the most. From the very first time he had smacked Dean's backside, John hated it. But, he also saw the necessity of it. He knew that some parents and experts believed that spanking a child was inappropriate. He had heard the arguments that physical discipline led to more aggressive children turning into more aggressive, violent adults. He knew that there were people that thought corporal punishment was a sign of lazy parenting. He had heard all the arguments, but he disagreed.

In his opinion, spanking was a both a tool and a consequence, and how he used it depended on the child and the situation. He had learned through the years that the threat of a spanking was usually enough to keep his youngest boy in line. Of course, he knew that would probably change as Sam got older, but for now Sam would do his best to keep from being spanked. Dean, on the other hand, was different. Of course, he hated being spanked, too, but John was pretty sure that he preferred a swift punishment that was over in minutes to a punishment that required him to sit still for hours on end. But, John also knew that Dean was finding it harder and harder to submit to such a punishment, knowing that it would usually end up with him embarrassed and in tears. John was old-fashioned enough to believe that the embarrassment was just as much of a deterrent to repeating the behavior as the actual discomfort of the spanking was.

With that being said, John still had no idea how to deal with the current situation. Whatever he decided, he knew that the punishment needed to be sufficient enough to ensure that Dean thought long and hard before ever doing something so irresponsible and foolhardy again.

John gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and aching as he thought about when he had punished Dean after the incident at school. He remembered telling Dean that if he ever did anything so careless again, he would be feeling the leather of his belt against his backside. He now wished that he hadn't ever said those words, because the last thing he wanted to do was whip his son with a belt.

John had experienced that punishment several times when he was younger, and although it was definitely memorable and an effective deterrent for future disobedience, he remembered being a little scared of his father afterwards. And John hated the thought of either of his sons fearing him.

As the miles passed under his tires, John contemplated the situation and how he was going to deal with it. By the time he pulled into the salvage yard, he still had no idea.

* * *

Dean had barely slept at all after Bobby put them to bed, so when the sound of the Impala pulling into the yard woke him, he was exhausted. He had spent most of the night worrying about his father, but also worrying about the amount of trouble he was in. While he was no stranger to finding himself in trouble, contrary to popular belief, he really didn't usually seek it out. But, this time he had. He knew from the start that the consequences of his choices would be hard to take and although he wished he wasn't in the situation he was now in, he wouldn't have chosen differently if he had the chance.

Dean did what he thought he had to do to keep his dad safe. He did what he thought he had to do to keep his family together. He knew his dad wouldn't see it the same way and he knew that by the end of the day he would probably be wishing he'd never been born, but he still wouldn't change what he did.

Sam was softly snoring next to him, his breath slowly blowing against Dean's cheek with every exhale. Dean slid himself out of the bed and quietly grabbed his jeans and a sweatshirt before making his way to the bathroom. His knee was still hurting quite a bit, but he managed to walk without hobbling too much.

Once he was done in the bathroom and dressed, he slowly started to make his way downstairs, both dreading the coming confrontation with his father and wanting to just get it over with at the same time. He could hear his father and Uncle Bobby talking and it sounded like they were in the kitchen, so he made his way over there. Just as he was outside the door, he heard his uncle's voice grow louder.

"Damn it, John. Are you serious? Is that really what you want to do?"

"I don't think I have a choice here, Bobby. He needs to learn and it's my responsibility to teach him, whether I want to or not."

"He's just a kid, John. Eleven years old….."

"I know how old my son is," John growled.

"I just think it's too much."

"Then what do _you_ think should happen?" John asked angrily, but also wanting to know the answer.

Bobby was silent for several long seconds, making Dean wonder if they were on to the fact that he was right outside the door. Just as he thought he was done for, he heard Bobby speak again.

"I don't know, John. I just remember my dad taking his belt to me when I was a kid. Scariest thing I'd ever been through."

"Your dad was an abusive drunk," John growled, having heard a few stories through the years of Bobby's sad childhood. "I'm not. If I decide to do this, I'll not do it in anger."

There was another long silence followed by a loud sigh. "Promise me you'll calm down before you punish him, Winchester. That's all I ask."

Dean, who by this time was starting to panic, didn't wait around to hear his dad's response. Suddenly, the realization that his dad was actually going to use his belt on him was too much, and without thinking, Dean stepped over to the front door, opened it quietly, and headed out into the cold morning.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. The holidays were crazy busy and I had a little bit of a creative block with the story, but I finally fought my way through.

We still haven't quite made it to the John/Dean showdown, but it's coming. I really wanted to show how much John loves his boys and how he actually does struggle with the challenges of being a father. At this time in his life, I would imagine that he isn't quite the hard-ass we see in the show, but he's definitely getting there.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter as well as any ideas you might have for the future of the story. Is there anything you'd like to see happen in the future?

And just in case you're interested, I recently updated Raising Winchesters and also uploaded a new Supernatural one-shot called The Trouble With Insignificance. I'd love it if you gave them both a read.


	32. Bravery and Valor

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 32

Bravery and Valor

* * *

The second the door shut behind him, Dean realized how stupid he was being. He was already in more trouble with his father than he could handle and now he was just adding to it. Not only was he running away from his trouble- something that John Winchester would never put up with- but he was also walking around on his injured knee and had gone outside wearing only a sweatshirt and jeans. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even have shoes on. But, no matter how much he realized the stupidity of his actions, he still couldn't bring himself to go back inside.

Dean couldn't really remember a time that he was truly afraid of his father. Of course, there were times that he didn't want to face the man because of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into, but that wasn't really the same as being afraid. Sure, his dad's punishments sucked, but Dean had a hard time admitting that they were usually well-deserved. In fact, the only time they weren't deserved were the times that he would take the blame for something Sammy did to keep him out of trouble. _But, that didn't really count, right?_ Those times were just his way of watching out for his little brother.

John had a knack for coming up with creative punishments, too. This was something that Dean both admired and despised on most days. Whether it be extra physical training or extra Latin lessons, John knew exactly what his boys needed. Sometimes, he would restrict Dean from having anything to do with training at all, which was something that he hated more than anything. In Dean's mind, he would much rather be spanked quickly- as much as hated the idea- than have his punishment dragged out for days and days.

But, the idea of his dad using his belt to spank him terrified him. Dean knew that his fear came mostly from something that happened at one of the motels they had stayed in a few years before. His dad had been out on a hunt and Dean was on his third day of watching Sammy. They were both really bored and tired of being cooped up in the hot motel room, breathing in the muggy and stale air, and watching the same two crappy channels on the crappy television. Eventually, Dean grew tired of Sam complaining about how bored he was and he made a decision to do something about it.

The motel they were staying in had a small playground off to the side, so Dean decided that he would take Sammy there for a few minutes, hoping to alleviate the five-year-old's boredom. And his own, too. They had been at the playground for almost fifteen minutes when another kid showed up. Dean was happy to see that the boy was about his age and within minutes the three of them were engaged in a rowdy game of tag.

The few minutes Dean had planned on staying turned into almost an hour and just when he finally realized how long they'd been gone, something happened. He was just about to tell Sam that it was time to go back to the motel room when a tall, angry-looking man stormed onto the playground. Sam and Dean both watched in horror as the man grabbed their new friend by the arms and loomed over him, yelling loudly at the boy. As they watched, the man started to unthread his belt from his pants and seconds later, he was whipping the boy soundly.

Dean quickly grabbed Sam's hand and led him back to the motel room, trying to ignore what was happening, but the sound of the leather swishing through the air before landing solidly on the boy's backside with a resounding smack echoed in his ear. Even after they were in their room with the door closed and locked, he could still hear the sounds of that belt swishing through the air. And the sounds of the boy's pain-filled cry.

Dean vowed right then and there that he would never do anything stupid enough to make his dad use his belt on him. And even when the man had threatened it after the fiasco at school, Dean didn't really think he was serious. Of course, now he knew how wrong he'd been.

Even though he knew he should turn around and go back inside, Dean didn't have the courage to actually do it. He hated himself for being so weak, but his fear completely overrode any speck of courage he usually held. Looking around the salvage yard, he quickly decided to do the only thing he could think of doing. Making his way down the porch steps, he hobbled as fast as he could over to the Impala, hoping that his dad hadn't locked it when he came home that morning. Reaching for the handle, he let out a relieved sigh when the door opened for him. And without a second thought, Dean climbed into the back seat, pulled the blanket off the floor, and curled up into a small ball.

* * *

The first thing Sam noticed when he woke up was how hungry he was. The second thing he noticed was that his brother wasn't laying in the bed next to him like he should have been. There were very few times in his young life where he woke up to find his brother gone and it always sparked a flame of panic inside him. After climbing out of bed, Sam made his way over to the bathroom, hoping to find his brother there. When he found the bathroom empty, he quickly took care of his own business before making his way downstairs.

As soon as Sam stepped off the stairs, he could hear the sound of his dad and Uncle Bobby talking. He listened for Dean's higher pitched voice, but didn't actually hear it. Without a second thought, Sam pushed open the kitchen door and walked in.

"Morning, Sam," Bobby said in a faux cheerful voice.

"Morning, Uncle Bobby. Where's Dean?"

John and Bobby shared a look before turning back to the youngest Winchester.

"What do you mean, Sammy? Isn't he still upstairs?"

Sam shook his head. "I woke up and he wasn't there, Daddy."

"Maybe he's in the bathroom," Bobby offered.

"I looked and he's not there!" With each passing second, Sam seemed to be losing control of his emotions, pushing closer and closer to losing the fight completely.

John and Bobby shared another look, this one lasting a little longer than the first. John stepped over and picked Sam up, setting him down at the table. "He's here somewhere, Sammy. You sit and eat something while I go look around for him."

Sam didn't like the idea of waiting around for his brother again, but he did what he was told. Bobby took out a bowl from the cupboard and poured him a bowl of cereal. After adding the milk to the bowl, he handed Sam a spoon. "Eat up, Sam."

Sam played with the cereal more than he ate it, having lost his appetite the moment he realized Dean was gone.

* * *

John couldn't help the surge of anger and irritation that shot through him when he found out that Dean was gone. He didn't think that something had come into the house during the night and taken his son. Bobby's house was as safe as any place could be and he would have heard if someone or something was prowling around the house. Which meant only one thing….. Dean had left the house of his own free will.

Of course, John knew that the kid was worried about the amount of trouble he was in and about his upcoming punishment. And once again, he wished that he had never threatened Dean with his belt. Now, he almost felt an obligation to use it to punish Dean, even though it really was the last thing he wanted to do. He knew that the boy needed to learn to follow orders and to keep himself out of danger and if a session with his belt helped enforce that lesson, then so be it.

He didn't blame Dean for being afraid to face the music, but he also couldn't let him get away with it. If there was one thing a Winchester needed to learn how to do, it was to face up to whatever mistakes were made with courage and integrity. John knew that he really wasn't one to talk, though, because he had made many mistakes with his boys that he never really owned up to. Before Mary's death, his integrity was important to him. But now, the only important thing, beyond the safety of his sons, was finding the monster that had taken Mary from him.

After he finished looking around the house, he moved to the outside, hoping that wherever the boy was, he wasn't doing anything that would get him into any more trouble. Dean was already in more trouble than either one of them wanted to think about.

John searched the small front yard and the bigger back yard without success. Next, he looked in each of Bobby's sheds, hoping to find his son, yet not wanting to find him breaking another rule. When the shed search proved unsuccessful, his own anxiety started to build as well. _Would Dean have left the property? Was the boy so scared that he actually ran away?_

The last place he searched was definitely the hardest. John made his way out into the salvage yard, wondering how exactly he was going to search all of the potential hiding places. Bobby had so many cars piled up in the yard and each one of them could easily hide an eleven-year-old boy.

The boys knew that they weren't allowed to play inside the old cars, having been told repeatedly that it was too dangerous. The boys had always abided by that rule and John hoped that this particular day would prove no different. As he started his search through the rows of cars, he called out for his son, hoping to hear his voice calling back.

But, by the time he was done with his search, he hadn't found hide nor hair of his son.

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of his dad calling out his name. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in the Impala and a few more seconds to remember why, but once everything came rushing back to him, he hunched further down in the back seat, frantically trying to figure out how he was going to get himself out of the situation he was in.

He listened as his dad's voiced echoed time and time again through the salvage yard, each time sounding a little more harried and anxious. Dean was surprised that the man didn't sound angry, because he knew that his actions would definitely anger the man. John Winchester was a man that expected his rules to be strictly followed. He was a man that did not tolerate disobedience in any form and both Dean and Sammy were all too aware of that.

As he sat in the Impala and thought about everything that had happened recently, he realized how stupid he was being. Although he didn't regret the choice he made to stowaway in the Impala to be his dad's backup, Dean did regret his decision to leave the house earlier. He didn't want his dad to think that he was a coward. More importantly, he didn't want Sammy to think that, either.

Dean loved being a big brother and he loved the fact that Sammy looked up to him. And he always tried to be a good brother. He failed, of course. Quite often, in fact. Disregarding the whole Shtriga incident, which was a failure in a league of its own, Dean failed his brother in lots of little ways. He wasn't always in the mood to play with Sam when he asked and he sometimes made up excuses to get out of it. He got angry whenever Sam touched his stuff. He called his little brother names sometimes and treated him like a baby. Dean knew his brother deserved to be treated better, but sometimes he was just so tired of always having to watch out for him. Sometimes, he just wanted to be Dean and not Big Brother Dean.

And now, he had failed again. Sam should be able to look at him as an example of how to act, but his recent actions were not something to be emulated. He never wanted Sam to be the kind of kid to run away from his problems. He never wanted him to be the type to take the easy way out. He wanted Sam to be brave and honest and valiant, yet he himself was none of those.

And he hated himself for that.

After sitting there for several more minutes, Dean finally decided that it was time to be a man. Opening the door, he slowly climbed out of the Impala, trying to shore up the courage to face his father. And maybe his father's belt.

Dean steadily made his way towards the house, each step feeling like one step closer to the end of whatever respect his father held for him.

* * *

After not finding any trace of Dean in the salvage yard, John made his way back into the house to grab the keys to the Impala. He had looked everywhere for his son and his only option now was to expand the search outside of Bobby's property. Stepping into the kitchen, he was instantly bombarded by both Sam and Bobby.

"Any luck?" Bobby immediately asked.

At the same time, Sam jumped down from the table and ran over to his dad, asking his own questions as he ran. "Where's Dean? Daddy? Didn't you find him?"

John picked his youngest son up and held him against his chest. He could feel Sam's heart pounding through the thin fabric of his pajamas. "Not yet, Sammy, but I will. He can't have gone far."

"What if he's lost forever, Daddy?" Sam cried. "I want Dean."

John felt the beginning of a headache coming on and he wished more than anything that he could rewind to a few days ago. He clutched Sam a little tighter as he threw a look at Bobby. Bobby immediately stepped forward and took Sam from John's arms.

"Sam, your Daddy's gonna find your brother."

Sam didn't look convinced at all, but he allowed Bobby to set him back down at the table. John stepped over to the counter and picked up his keys. "I'm heading into town, Bobby. Call me if he comes back."

"I will. And you call if you find him."

John nodded his head and turned to leave. He grabbed his jacket and walked to the front door. Just as he grabbed the door knob to open it, the knob turned and the door swung open, revealing the small form of his oldest son standing nervously on the doorstep.

"Dean!" John yelled in surprise. Dean looked up at him for a brief second before quickly looking away. John couldn't help but notice the way the boy shivered and he immediately realized that Dean was standing in the cold in only jeans and a sweatshirt. _The boy didn't even have shoes on!_

Grabbing Dean by the arm, John quickly pulled him inside. "Get in here, Dean. You're shivering."

Once the door was closed, the two Winchesters stood before each other- one filled with relief, the other with dread. "Where have you been?" John asked in frustration. "I've been looking for you for almost two hours." When Dean didn't answer, John could feel his frustration evolving into anger. "Dean! Where were you?"

Dean straightened his shoulders and finally looked up at his dad. "I was in the car," he finally answered.

John looked at him incredulously. "This whole time you've been in the Impala?"

"Y-yes, sir."

John was about to ask his son why he had hidden in the car, but they were interrupted by Sam's small figure rushing to the door. Suddenly, Dean found himself being nearly bowled over by his little brother.

"Dean! Dean, you're back!"

"Hey, Sammy," Dean answered quietly.

"Are you okay? I was really scared when I couldn't find you, Dean. I thought that bad man came and took you again."

"I'm okay, Sammy." Dean looked nervously up to his father and then shifted his eyes back to his brother. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Bobby, who had been standing a little off to the side, stepped up to Dean and pulled him into his side. "What were you thinking, kid?" he asked. "You know better than to run off like that."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby. I didn't mean to."

"What do you mean 'you didn't mean to?'" John asked angrily. "You didn't mean to open the door and walk outside? You didn't mean to climb into the car and hide yourself away?"

Dean didn't know how to answer that and in the face of his father's obvious anger he completely clammed up. John wasn't going to allow that, though.

"Dean, I asked you a question," he said sternly, obviously expecting an answer.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean answered nervously. "I, uh… I heard you and Uncle Bobby talking in the kitchen and I, uh…. I panicked."

"How many times have you been told not to eavesdrop, boy?" John growled. "It always gets you in trouble."

"I didn't mean to, Dad! I was just coming downstairs and I heard you talking. I didn't do it on purpose!"

Bobby, who could tell that John was getting angrier, knew it was time to intervene. "I bet you're hungry, Dean. Let's go get you something to eat and then we can deal with this."

John started to argue, but Bobby cut him off. "John, he needs to eat something. Then you can finish this up."

Dean looked up at his Dad and when the man didn't say anything else, he followed Bobby and Sam into the kitchen. He knew he was too nervous to eat anything, but he appreciated the small reprieve anyway. And he was relieved when John didn't follow them into the kitchen.

* * *

John decided that he needed to calm himself down a little, so instead of following Bobby and his boys into the kitchen, he stepped out onto the front porch for some fresh air. He was so relieved to have Dean back safe and sound, but he couldn't keep from being mad at the kid for putting them all through the last few hours. He would never admit to, and no one would ever really understand, just how scared he was when he couldn't find his son. There was actually a part of him that had considered the possibility of the shapeshifter returning to finish the job he had started. And that possibility terrified him.

After spending almost an hour on the front porch, wishing the whole time that he had some whiskey to calm himself down, he stepped back into the house. The kitchen was empty and when he found Bobby in his study, he asked where the boys were.

"I sent them upstairs, John," Bobby said. "Dean didn't eat much, just so you know, and I gave him something for his knee. It's still swollen, but it looks a little better."

In all the excitement of Dean being missing, John had forgotten about Dean's knee being injured. He suddenly remembered that he had given the boy explicit instructions to stay off his knee and knowing now that he had completely disregarded those instructions only added to the boy's list of crimes that he needed to atone for.

Wanting to get the coming confrontation over with so he could get some much-needed rest, John made his way upstairs. He stopped outside of the boys' room, listening closely to whatever might be going on inside. When he didn't really hear anything, he knocked once on the door and opened it.

Dean and Sam were both sitting on the bed, talking quietly. They both looked up when the door opened and both boys sat up straighter when they saw it was him. John noticed that Sam scooted a little closer to his brother, too.

"Dean, we need to talk," John said simply.

"Yes, sir," Dean immediately answered. He started to get up off the bed, but John stopped him.

"Stay there, Dean. I don't want you walking on that leg for a while. Sam, I want you to go downstairs and see if Bobby needs any help in the kitchen."

Sam didn't make a move to leave until Dean looked at him and poked him in the side with his elbow. "Go on, Sammy."

Sam reluctantly climbed off the bed, obviously not wanting to leave his brother to face their father alone. Dean watched as his little brother walked out of the room before turning his attention back to his dad. He could tell that the man was furious and he suddenly felt another urge to get up and run away. He didn't, though. Instead, he took a deep breath, turned back to his dad, and steeled himself for whatever was to come.

John also felt the urge to run away, but he didn't, either. Looking down at his son, he steeled himself to do what he _had_ to do, even though it was the last thing he _wanted_ to do. Stepping over to the bed, he sat down on the edge, right in front of his son.

"We need to talk about what you've been up to the last few days, Dean. I'm really disappointed in you."

Dean's eyes immediately filled with tears at his father's words. More than anything, he hated when his dad was disappointed in him. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

"I know you are, son. And I appreciate that, but it's not enough to just be sorry. You really messed up, Dean, and I can't just let that go. I'm going to have to punish you."

"I know."

"Okay. Well, before we get to that, there's a lot we need to discuss. Let's start with why you thought it was a good idea to stowaway in the Impala and interfere with the hunt…..

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the wait, y'all. I had a little bit of a hard time with this chapter, since I'm still not sure exactly how John is going to handle Dean's punishment. There's a part of me that thinks that once John Winchester says something, that's what he does, no matter what. But, there's another part of me that has a hard time believing that John would go through with his threat to use his belt. We have so little to go on when it comes to the type of discipline John preferred in canon, but there have been several episodes that have eluded to the fact that the man believed in corporal punishment. Knowing that, it's not too far of a leap to imagine that he wouldn't hesitate to take his belt off to drive his point home. What do you all think? Do you think he's the type to use his belt on his sons? Or do you think he's not? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.


	33. Paying the Piper

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 33

Paying the Piper

* * *

Dean knew that the conversation he was currently having with his father would be frustrating, but he didn't realize it would be as frustrating as it actually was. John Winchester wasn't the easiest person to talk to on a good day and this day was definitely anything other than a good day. In fact, it was an awful day. One of the worst in a long history of awful days.

He knew before he even started that his dad wouldn't really understand why he snuck into the Impala to help him with the hunt. The man wouldn't ever admit that he needed help, especially help from his eleven-year-old son. In fact, he was pretty sure his dad probably hated that he had to be saved by his son. Probably not as much as he hated his son putting himself in danger, though.

 _Because that was the crux of this whole situation, right?_ John Winchester's biggest rule for his boys was to never do anything that put themselves in danger. There was a part of Dean that thought this particular rule was a little bit hypocritical, though, since the mere act of leaving him behind to take care of his little brother for days on end wasn't exactly safe. So many things could go wrong while they were holed up in some sleazy motel room.

While Dean was trying to figure out exactly how to explain his absolute need to protect his dad, John was growing more and more frustrated. Dean wasn't sure exactly when the man had crossed the room to sit on the bed next to him, so he was surprised when a hand sharply smacked his thigh.

"Dean! I asked you a question. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"I wanted to help, Dad," he answered simply.

"I didn't need help, Dean. I had everything under control."

"She had you trapped, Dad! And you dropped your gun. She was going to hurt you!"

"And she could have hurt you, too," John said, running his hands over his face in frustration as he suddenly remembered how scared he had been to find his son facing off with a ghost. "Son, when I'm hunting, I need to be able to focus on what I'm doing. I can't do that if I'm worrying about you."

"You don't have to worry about me, Dad. I've been training for a long time and I'm ready to hunt. I can be your backup."

John stood up and started pacing the small room. There was a part of him that was excited about the idea of Dean finally being able to hunt with him, but there was an even bigger part of him that was terrified of the idea. By this time, he had been training the boy for years and he knew that Dean would someday be a formidable hunter. In fact, he felt that the boy was probably going to be the best hunter the hunting world had ever known.

Not only was Dean an excellent shot for his age, his hand-to-hand combat skills were equally impressive. The boy was amazing with a bow and his knife-handling skills were improving every day. Already- at the tender age of eleven- the boy was better than a lot of hunters John had come across. At least, skill wise. Of course, there was so much more to hunting than just being skillful. As instinctual and intuitive as the boy was, there was still so much Dean needed to learn. He needed to learn how to effectively research a hunt before rushing in head on. He needed to learn patience and he needed to learn how to control his natural impulsivity. But, most of all, he needed to learn how to follow orders.

John had learned that lesson the hard way. Because of his military background, he had learned early on that following orders was essential to survival. And while he understood the necessity, he also found it hard sometimes to submit to someone else's orders. He had been on a few hunts that had gone completely sideways because someone didn't follow orders. And sometimes that 'someone' was him.

Eventually, after a particularly bad hunt that went south quickly, John had learned to follow orders better. Especially when they came from the hunters he trusted and respected, like Bobby, Bill Harvelle, and Jim Murphy. He still made his opinion known, but he was learning to put his pride aside. For the most part.

Looking down at his son, John felt a rush of love shoot through him. He knew he didn't say it often enough, but he was so proud of the young man Dean was becoming. The boy had more fire in him than most boys his age and he shouldered more responsibility than most men ten years older. John knew that he put too much on the boy. He knew that Dean deserved to just be a boy instead of always having to be Sam's protector and caregiver. Hell, if he was to admit it, Dean was actually Sam's surrogate father and that thought didn't always set well with him.

He knew that there were two things that mattered the most to Dean. His little brother was always first and foremost, of course. Nothing came before Sam, in Dean's eyes. The second thing was his father's approval. Dean tried so hard to make him proud. He tried so hard to do what was expected of him and to never disappoint his family. But, he was still just a kid. He made mistakes and John knew that that was okay, as long as the boy learned from them.

One of Dean's biggest mistakes was the Shtriga incident. John remembered easily how angry he had been when he learned that Dean had left Sam alone in the motel room to go play some childish arcade game. Some of the last words he spoke to Dean before leaving that night had been to remind him that the most important thing was to watch out for Sammy. In fact, those were usually the last words he always said to his oldest son. _The most important thing was to watch out for Sammy. The most important thing. Sammy._

John realized now how unfair that was to Dean. Yes, it was important to protect Sam, but it was equally important that Dean learned to protect himself. For the first time, he wondered if his always conveying the importance of Sam's safety had somehow made Dean think that his own safety wasn't just as significant. _Was he himself to blame for Dean's willingness to put himself in danger without hesitation?_

John sat down on the bed again and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees. He really had no idea how to make his son understand the recklessness of his recent actions, but he knew he had to.

"Dean, what do you think the most important part of hunting is?"

Dean was taken aback by the shift in conversation. And he really wanted to answer his dad correctly. He sat there for several long seconds, thinking back on everything his dad had ever told him about hunting. "Preparation," he finally answered.

John nodded, but didn't say anything for almost a minute. He could feel Dean squirming next to him, obviously nervously thinking that his answer was wrong. "Preparation is very important, but the most important thing is to make sure that you're doing everything safely. It doesn't do anyone any good at all to rush into a situation blindly, Dean. You have to have a Plan B in case Plan A falls apart. And you can't be impulsive. Impulsivity leads to mistakes, Dean. And on a hunt, mistakes can be deadly."

"But you were in trouble, Dad. And you didn't have anyone to watch your back! If I hadn't been there, she could have killed you!"

"Don't you think I was prepared for something like that to happen?" John asked. "I had a Plan B, Dean. I had my pistol and I had consecrated iron rounds. I was ready. But, then you showed up out of nowhere. You scared the hell out of me, Dean!"

Dean looked surprised to hear that his dad had been scared. That wasn't an emotion he ever associated with his father. "I had to do something, Dad. I had to. I couldn't let her hurt you."

John ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Son, it's not your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you, though. And that's what I was doing when I left you at Bobby's. I left you where I knew you would be safe. Knowing that you and Sammy are safe allows me to focus on the job ahead of me. So, once I saw you there in front of that ghost, I lost all sense of focus and that's dangerous."

"I'm sorry," Dean said sadly. "I didn't think of that."

"And that's not all," John continued. "You snuck out of the house, Dean. You manipulated me last night, making me think you were tired and ready to go to bed, when you were just anxious for me to leave so you could sneak out. You lied to me."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did. You let me believe something that wasn't true. That's the same as lying."

Dean's eyes filled with tears. He knew how his dad felt about lying and he was suddenly feeling even sorrier for himself.

"What other mistakes did you make?" John asked his son.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, but answered a beat later when John cleared his throat. "I don't know, Dad," he said miserably.

"I think you do," John said simply.

Dean sat still for several minutes as he searched for the answer his dad was looking for. "I, uh…. I got out of the car after you told me to stay inside," he finally answered.

"And why did you do that?" John asked. "Why would you leave the car when I told you to stay inside?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," Dean admitted quietly. In fact, he was so quiet that John didn't understand what he said.

"What?"

"I had to go to the bathroom, Dad. I couldn't wait. And I couldn't just go right there! I, uh… I just went over to the nearest trees and then the, uh… the spirit showed up."

"Which wouldn't have been a problem if you had stayed in the car like I ordered you to. Which leads me to the crux of this situation. You know the importance of following orders, son. If I've ever taught you anything, it's that you _have_ to follow orders. Without hesitation. And you obviously need a refresher on that lesson."

"I don't, Dad! I know how important it is to follow orders."

"And yet you've been failing impressively at it. Which tells me that you don't respect me enough to do what I told you."

"No! I respect you, Dad," Dean cried. "I do! I just….."

"You just what?" John asked.

"I was scared, Dad. I was scared that you weren't ready for the hunt after what happened to you the last time. You almost died, Dad!"

"Dean…."

"No! You don't remember, Dad, but when Caleb and that other hunter brought you in, you were almost dead! There was so much blood, Dad, and I've never seen Uncle Bobby look so scared."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Dean. But, I didn't die. And I wasn't going to die yesterday, either. And before you say anything else, it's not your job to protect me. Especially when you're putting yourself in danger to do it. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered miserably.

"I think there are a few more things we need to discuss, too, don't you? About this morning's events?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for leaving the house, Dad. I just…. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop on you and Uncle Bobby. I swear. I just heard you talking about, uh….about how you were going to punish me and I panicked. I'm sorry."

"Dean, what have I always told you about making mistakes?"

"That a good man faces up to his mistakes. That if you're going to choose to do something, you have to be prepared for the consequences of that choice. And that you can't run away from trouble."

"And yet that was exactly what you did this morning. And where did that get you? Now, you're in even more trouble for leaving the house without telling me, for hiding away in the car, for leaving the house without a coat or shoes, and for even walking around on that knee in the first place. By running away like that, you dug yourself in even deeper. Dean, running away from a problem never solves anything."

"I know. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm really sorry. I'm sorry I made you lose focus on the hunt. I'm sorry I scared Uncle Bobby and Sammy. I'm sorry that I'm such a screw-up." Dean didn't miss the way his dad's face suddenly turned red with anger and he wondered what he had said that made the man so mad.

"I don't ever want to hear you say that again, Dean. You're not a screw-up. You're just a kid that made some monumental mistakes. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, I don't expect you to be perfect. I don't expect you to never make mistakes or get into trouble. What I do expect, however, is for you to listen to me and follow my orders. I expect you to always be truthful. And I expect you to behave. I won't tolerate deliberate disobedience or lying. And I definitely won't tolerate you putting yourself in danger. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

John sat up straighter on the bed, stretching his back as he ran his hands over his face. Up until that point, he still hadn't been sure how he was going to punish his son. But, after listing all the things the boy needed to be punished for, he finally came to a decision, no matter how much he hated it.

"You've gotten yourself in a hell of a lot of trouble, son," he said quietly, but firmly. "Do you remember what I told you would happen if you ever did something so reckless again?"

"Dad, please….."

"Listen, Dean. I'm not the kind of man to say things that I don't mean, and you know that. When you were making the decision to sneak out of your room and stow away in the Impala, you knew what might happen if you were caught, right?"

"Yeah, but…."

"You knew what might happen after you snuck out of the house without appropriate clothing and on your injured knee, right?"

Dean nodded.

"But, you still did those things anyway. You made a choice to do the things you did, knowing that the possible consequences were bad. And now, here we are." John looked closely at his son, taking in the tears falling down his face and the fact that he was slightly trembling all over. "I try to be a man of my word, Dean, so I think you know what to expect right now."

Dean wanted to argue about the "man of my word" statement, remembering all the times the man had promised to be home at a certain time, only to show up days later saying that the hunt took longer than expected. He wanted to argue after remembering all the times his dad had said he'd be back for Christmas or in time for Sammy's birthday, but then completely missing it. He wanted to argue, but he didn't. He knew that would only make his dad angrier and that was the last thing he needed. Instead, he sat as still as he could on the bed, hoping for some miracle to come along and save him from what was about to happen.

But, there was no miracle.

Instead, Dean watched as his dad stood up and unbuckled his belt. He watched as John pulled the belt out of the loops of his jeans. He watched as his father's big hands folded the leather belt in half and set it down on the bed next to him.

"I know I've never used my belt on you before, Dean, and believe me, it's the last thing I want to be doing. But, I need you to really understand what I'm saying, son. And if the only way I can do that is to drive it home with my belt, well…. then that's what I'm going to do. Come here, Dean….."

Dean hesitated for a few seconds, but he knew better than to make his dad wait. John expected his boys to accept their punishment immediately and any hesitation only added to whatever punishment they already had coming. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to steel himself for what would probably prove to be one of the worst experiences of his young life, Dean made his way over to the edge of the bed. Before he could stand up, though, his father lifted him up off the bed and sat him down on his lap. Dean hated how that made him feel like a baby, but he didn't attempt to climb down. Instead, he allowed his dad to pick him up again and lay him over his knees.

"Okay, Dean. It's only going to be my hand for now." Without another word, John started bringing his hand down to meet Dean's small backside.

* * *

Dean had no idea how long his father spanked him for, but he was relieved when the man's hand finally rested on the small of his back. That relief was short lived, however, when he remembered that his dad was actually going to use his belt on him, and he suddenly found himself fighting the insane urge to jump up and run out of the room.

Trying to get his breathing under control, he felt his dad twisting slightly as he moved to pick up the belt. Dean felt a new wave of tears flowing down his already tear-stained face and he grabbed onto his dad's leg even tighter.

"You're going to get five with the belt, Dean. One for lying to me. One for sneaking out of the house. One for putting yourself in danger. One for not following orders. And one for this morning's events."

Dean wasn't sure he could handle five licks with the belt and he could feel his shaky grasp on his control slipping away. He closed his eyes tightly and prayed that it would all just be over soon. With his eyes closed, he didn't see that his dad had closed his eyes, too. Dean would never know that John Winchester was praying for the exact same thing.

When he was done, John threw his belt across the room and tried to gain control of his emotions. Punishing one of his boys was always difficult for him, but this time had been particularly brutal. And John suddenly found himself wanting to cry.

He had tried to make each lick of the belt hurt just enough, but not too much, wanting to make sure that Dean learned his lesson without the whole incident being too traumatic. The last thing John wanted was for his son to be afraid of him. He knew that Dean was afraid of being spanked with the belt, but that was different than the boy actually fearing him.

Giving Dean some time to cry, John eventually pulled the boy up and settled him gently on his lap. Dean immediately ground his face in to John's chest, his small shoulders shuddering with sobs and his tears soaking John's t-shirt. John pulled Dean in closer with one hand, clutching him tightly to his chest, while the other hand rubbed the boy's back.

"Hey, it's all over, Dean. It's done." He felt Dean's breath hitch at his words and his heart broke a little, knowing how much Dean hated to cry in front of him. "It's okay," he said softly, hoping to soothe some of the anguish pouring off the small body he held, yet not knowing what else to say. He didn't want to apologize for the sound spanking, because he didn't regret his choice to go through with it. He regretted the necessity of it, for sure, but he didn't regret doing it. Dean had to learn. He had to learn that it wasn't ever okay to put himself in such a dangerous situation.

After almost five minutes of holding Dean, he finally felt him pull away. Not wanting him to put any pressure on his knee, John stood up and laid Dean down on the bed. With a small hiss, Dean quickly turned over on his side and covered his face with his pillow. John reached down and pulled the blanket up. "Why don't you get some rest, Dean? I'll come get you when it's time to eat."

Dean's only answer was to burrow down deeper under the blanket. As John left the room, he could still hear sniffling and could see Dean's form trembling slightly under the blanket. Without another word, John stepped out of the room, closed the door softly behind him, and made his way down to face Bobby and Sam.

* * *

Sam knew the minute he was sent out of the room that Dean was going to get a spanking and he hated it. He had been really mad at his brother earlier for sneaking out of the house _(twice!)_ and making him scared that something had happened to him. He hated it when Dean was gone and not knowing where his brother was had been awful. But, no matter how mad he was at Dean, he hated it when he was punished.

Sam was only seven years old, but he was smart. He knew that their dad was a lot stricter with Dean than he was with him, but he really didn't know why. Sam could get away with things a lot easier than Dean could, which could be a little confusing. If Sam threw a tantrum, Daddy would send him to bed with a swat or two to his backside, but if Dean argued or threw a tantrum (which had only happened once that Sam knew of), he would get a full spanking. If Sam got in trouble at school (something that rarely happened), he'd have to stand in the corner at home or go to bed early, but if Dean got in trouble (something that happened constantly, it seemed), he would be grounded and/or spanked.

Sam could get away with forgetting to do his chores or not cleaning his plate at dinnertime, but Dean rarely got away with anything. And there were times that Sam knew his brother took the blame for something he did, just to keep him from getting into trouble. Dean was the best big brother ever!

As he sat down in the kitchen with Uncle Bobby, Sam kept an ear open for whatever was happening upstairs. He also kept his eye on the doorway, hoping that Dean would come sauntering in at any moment.

"Are you hungry, Sam?" Bobby asked him, trying to take his mind off of what was happening up in their room. "It's been a long day already."

Sam didn't answer and when Bobby placed a glass of milk and two cookies in front of him, he ignored them. Eventually, though, he picked one up and started nibbling on it.

He was just about to start in on his second cookie when he heard a different noise coming from upstairs. Sam noticed the loud sigh that came from Bobby and his eyes immediately searched the older man's for an answer. Before he could figure out what the man was thinking, Sam's attention was brought forcefully back to what was going on upstairs when he heard the unmistakable sound of Dean crying.

 _Dean never cried like that! Unless he was really hurt._

"Uncle Bobby? What's wrong with Dean?"

Bobby looked over at Sam, noticing for the first time how upset he looked. "Don't worry about your brother," he said in a tired voice. "He'll be fine."

Sam couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes and eventually fell down his face. He listened closely, wondering how bad of a spanking it was to have Dean crying like that. After what seemed like forever, Sam was relieved to hear that the sobbing had stopped. He continued to play with his cookie, not noticing that Bobby was doing the same with his own cookie. They sat that way for a while, until eventually the sound of the bedroom door opening, followed by the sounds of John's footsteps coming down the stairs, broke the silence.

* * *

Bobby hated knowing what was about to happen to Dean, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew the boy deserved to be punished, and even though he thought the belt unnecessary, he trusted John to do right by his son.

As much as he hated the way John was raising his sons, he knew that the man loved them both and would never hurt them in anger. And Bobby knew a little about the kind of father that lashed out in anger, having had one as a child.

Bobby didn't necessarily disagree with the use of a belt as punishment, but he didn't particularly like the idea, either. Especially when it involved Sam and Dean. He did, however, agree with John that Dean's recent actions deserved a little more than just a normal spanking. Dean was a smart kid, but his impulsivity was bound to get him in big trouble, eventually. This latest escapade had turned out okay, but Bobby knew that it could have been disastrous.

Of course, he blamed John for that. Through the years, it had been so ingrained in Dean to watch out for Sammy, that he didn't realize that his own safety was just as paramount. The boy had also watched as his dad went off to hunt things that were hurting other people, often disregarding his own safety in the process of the hunt. He knew that saving people and hunting things were important. Bobby guessed what Dean didn't know was how important he was, too.

Waking up to find Dean gone had been a nightmare for Bobby and not only for the fact that he had been tasked with watching over the boys. Bobby would never admit it to anyone, most of all himself, that he loved the Winchester boys as if they were his own sons. The thought of anything happening to either of them was enough to bring him to his knees.

So, if John thought that a little session with his belt was what Dean needed to truly understand the fallacy of his ways, then so be it. _Who was he to stop such an important lesson?_

Turning to the small boy sitting at his kitchen table, Bobby tried to divert Sam's attention from the sounds of the spanking going on upstairs, to the cookies he had set down in front of him. He could tell that the boy was growing more and more distressed with each passing minute and with each passing sound they could hear coming from the second floor. Eventually, they were able to hear the cracking of the belt, followed by Dean's cries, but luckily it only lasted a few seconds. Bobby wasn't sure, but he thought he'd only heard it fall five times. The thought brought him a little sense of relief, for sure.

Once the sounds stopped, it was almost another ten minutes before they heard the bedroom door open, followed by the sound of John's boots on the stairs. Seconds later, John entered the kitchen, looking quite a bit worse for wear. Without saying a word, Bobby stood up and reached into the cabinet over the stove, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two small glasses. John looked at him appreciatively.

Before John could even sit down, he noticed the glare that was coming from his youngest son. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Sam's obvious anger, so he sat back in the chair and took a swig of whiskey, hoping to settle his nerves a little. Eventually, he couldn't ignore the glare anymore.

"Sammy, why don't you go on upstairs and check on Dean. I'm sure he'd like your company."

Sam didn't need any other prompting. Without a word, he grabbed the cookie off of his plate and rushed out of the room.

Bobby and John watched him leave, neither saying a word, either. Instead, John grabbed the whiskey bottle again and filled his glass up.

* * *

Author's note: If you're wondering who to thank for the quick update, all thanks should go to the lovely readers who took the time to review. Those reviews are food for the soul and after reading them, I realized how unfair it was to leave off where I did. So, thank you to those who left reviews. You guys are awesome!

It seems like there were some differences of opinions regarding whether John would/should go through with his threat of using the belt on Dean. I really enjoyed reading everyone's ideas and I want to say thanks for expressing them so respectfully. I also want to say thanks to reader/reviewer ullswater for her review that reminded me that this is my story and that I need to be happy with the choices I make for this story. While I definitely hope to make my readers happy with my story, I also write it for my own happiness. Thanks for that reminder, ullswater.

The next chapter will have lots of Sam and Dean brotherliness, as well as another talk between Dean and John. I'm hoping to also include some Dean and Bobby bonding, too. Thank you all for taking the time to ready my story. And thanks to those who leave reviews. You guys are all amazing.


	34. I've Paid My Dues, Time After Time

_Watch Out For Sammy_

Chapter 34

I've Paid My Dues, Time After Time

* * *

Dean's tears lasted much longer than any sting he felt in his backside. While it was definitely the worst spanking he had ever received, his heart hurt far worse and his tears wouldn't seem to stop. He knew that he had messed up on multiple levels- sneaking out, not following orders, running away from his trouble- but he couldn't believe that his dad couldn't understand why he had done what he'd done.

The man had been training him for as long as he could remember, but what good was it doing if he wasn't ever allowed to help? He hated that his father didn't trust him enough to let him help out on hunts. _Or maybe it was that his father just didn't have any faith in him._ Dean hated that possibility even more. He wanted so badly to prove to the man that he was capable, that he wasn't just a kid that wasn't good for anything, that he was a good hunter. He wanted…..no, he _needed_ to prove himself to his dad.

But, it really didn't make sense to Dean, either. If his father didn't trust him to go on a hunt, how did he trust him to stay behind? Sometimes when John left for a hunt, he left Dean to watch out for Sammy. _And wasn't watching out for Sammy the most important job of all?_ Dean didn't understand how he could be trusted to do that job, but not to hunt with his dad and be his backup. It was confusing. And if he were honest with himself, it really made him angry.

Dean would never say it out loud, but sometimes his dad could be a stubborn, selfish jerk. The man never thought twice about rushing off into danger, not caring that his boys were worried about him the whole time he was gone. He didn't care that he frequently stayed away longer than he said he would, leaving his boys to constantly listen for the sound of the Impala heralding his return as they spent night after night in some crappy motel. He didn't care that Dean was terrified that one day he might not come back at all.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach, feeling a slight twinge when his pants stretched tightly across his bottom. Reaching back with one hand, he gently rubbed his backside. He couldn't believe how much more the belt hurt than his dad's hand, and he vowed to himself that he would never do anything to deserve it again. Or, at least, to make his dad think he deserved it.

He was just about to get up and make his way to the bathroom to wash his face when he heard the thundering sound of Sam running up the stairs. He quickly sat up, ignoring the twinge he felt again, and prepared himself for Sam. Seconds later, the door flew open and Sam stepped into the room, his eyes bigger than usual.

"Dean! Are you okay? Did Daddy spank you hard? I heard it all the way downstairs and it sounded like it hurt a lot."

"I'm okay, Sam," Dean answered resignedly.

"No, you're not. You're crying, Dean!"

Dean's hand immediately flew to his face and wiped away the tears that were still there. He hated that his brother knew that he had been crying and his face suddenly reddened in embarrassment. _Did that mean that Uncle Bobby heard him crying, too?_

"I said I was okay, Sammy," he said angrily.

Sam stepped over to the bed, but his steps stopped a few feet away. Dean watched his eyes grow even larger and he looked over to see what Sam was staring at. He stomach flipped when he saw John's belt still laying where the man had thrown it when he was done.

"Did Daddy….did you get the belt, Dean?" Sam asked in a near whisper, his eyes still fixated on the leather. When Dean didn't answer, Sam's gaze moved away from the belt and back to his brother, his own eyes welling with tears at the realization.

"Sammy…."

Sam suddenly climbed onto the bed, throwing himself at his brother. "I hate him, Dean. Why did he do that?!"

"Sammy, don't say that. You don't hate him."

"I do!"

"No, you don't. Besides, _I'm_ the one that got the belt and _I_ don't hate him."

Sam's eyes moved back over to the belt and Dean felt a small shudder move through him. He suddenly felt the need to get Sam's mind off the fact that he had been punished so harshly. "Hey, Sam….I'm gonna go to the bathroom and when I come back, we'll play a game, okay? And you can pick which game."

Sam's eyes lit up at the idea of playing a game with his big brother. "Okay. I'll pick a good game, Dean. I promise."

Dean scooted over and stood up, stiffly. Once he was up, he moved over and kicked his dad's belt under the desk, wanting it out of sight. Once that was done, he left the room and headed to the bathroom, leaving Sam to look through all the games on the bookshelf. Dean was glad that his distraction worked, but he really hoped he didn't just condemn himself to an afternoon of playing Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders.

* * *

Sam's hurried footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs and John was tempted to call him back down. The boy knew better than to run in the house and John wondered if he needed a reminder of the rules. He quickly realized, however, that he just didn't have the physical or emotional strength to deal with Sam's misbehavior. Instead, John allowed himself to sink even deeper into the chair as he drank more of the whisky Bobby had poured for him. The events of the last few days were quickly catching up to him and he suddenly felt more exhausted than he had felt in a long time. He figured once he actually went to sleep, he'd probably sleep for a solid twenty-four hours.

Refilling his glass again, John finally looked at Bobby, who was nursing his own shot of whiskey. John wasn't surprised that the man seemed to be avoiding his gaze, but he had to admit it pissed him off a little. They had discussed Dean's punishment ad nauseam earlier, yet never came to an actual understanding. John had been convinced that Dean's behavior required more than just the normal punishment. He was convinced that he needed to amp it up a bit to make sure that the boy wouldn't ever do something so foolish again. Bobby thought differently. And while he appreciated Bobby's input, John knew it was up to him to do what he thought was best. Dean was _his_ son and he knew what the boy needed.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Bobby spoke. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, Singer. He's a tough kid."

"That's not the point, Winchester, and you know it," Bobby growled.

"The point is that I did what was necessary. I know my kid, Bobby, and I know what he needs. And I don't think he'll do something like that again. _That's_ the point," John said.

"Did you at least talk to him? Find out what the hell he was thinking?"

"Of course, I did."

"And?"

"He wanted to be my backup." John hesitated before continuing. "I guess he was still a little shook up after my last hunt and he convinced himself that I couldn't take care of it on my own. Damn it, Bobby! I was so scared when I saw him standing there, facing off against that spirit!"

"I know, John. I was just as scared when I woke up to find him gone."

John simply nodded his head as he tipped his glass back. Silence reigned again for several minutes as Bobby and John thought about the recent events. Eventually, John broke the silence again. "I didn't want to have to do it, but I didn't know what else to do to really get his attention. All I knew was that the few times my dad took his belt to me, he got my full attention. But, I really hope I don't ever have to do that again, Bobby."

Bobby silently agreed with John, but both men figured that John wouldn't be so lucky.

After another shot of whiskey, John stood up and stretched. "I need to get some sleep," he finally said. "Can you keep an eye on the boys for me?"

"No problem," Bobby answered.

"Great! Wake me up for dinner, okay?"

* * *

Bobby watched as John left the room, his mind wandering back to Dean. He hated that Dean had to be punished like he was, but there was a part of him that understood where John was coming from, too. Dean absolutely had to learn to follow orders, if he was going to survive being a hunter. And he had to learn to control his impulsivity.

The problem, though, was that the boy was getting mixed signals from his father. Bobby had talked to John about that before, but John refused to listen. The way John raised his boys- especially Dean- was inconsistent and contradictory.

On one hand, Dean was expected to act more responsibly than most people twice his age were expected to act. He was left alone to look after Sam for days at a time, responsible for making sure Sam ate and did his homework and went to bed at a decent time. He was responsible for getting Sam to school on time and making sure he had clean clothes to wear. There were times when Dean had to take care of a sick little brother. And sometimes he had to take care of Sam when he was sick himself. Dean was expected to keep Sam safe and keep other people from getting suspicious about two young kids being so alone.

On the other hand, Dean was held to a higher standard of behavior than other kids his age while having more restrictions and expectations placed on him. He didn't have the luxury of acting like other normal adolescents who were only concerned about getting the newest video game or seeing the newest superhero movie. He didn't have the opportunity to buy the newest clothes or shoes or whatever was popular at the moment. And he definitely didn't have the chance to get into typical childish mischief.

John Winchester wasn't the type of man to tolerate such things. He expected obedience and respect. He expected hard work and honesty. He expected his boys to do what they were told to do and to do it without complaint. He expected Dean to act like an adult and didn't tolerate it when he acted like a child.

Well, if Bobby were being honest, he'd have to admit that John didn't tolerate anything else from Dean, either. Sam was different, though. He knew it was because Sam was still so little, but John treated him differently than he did Dean at the same age. And Bobby hated that. In his opinion, Dean's childhood was tragic. In fact, in his opinion, Dean's childhood died the same night as his mother. From that point on, Dean was drafted into the Army of Winchester. From that point on, he became Daddy's little soldier. And Bobby wished more than anything that he could change that.

Of course, he wasn't of the mind that Dean and Sam shouldn't be trained up in the ways of hunting. After his own wife died, his eyes had been opened to the dangers of the Supernatural world and he knew that the boys would be safer if they knew what was out there. He hated the thought of them being raised as hunters, though. He wished they could just be normal little boys who worried about the things that other boys worried about.

And he wished that John wasn't so hard on Dean.

* * *

The next few days were strained and awkward for everyone living in the Singer house. Both boys were avoiding John as much as they could- Dean because he was embarrassed and a little angry still, and Sam because he was sad and a lot angry. Both brothers hated it when the other one was punished. Dean would usually do anything to keep Sam from being punished and he, too, felt just the tiniest bit of hate towards his dad whenever Sam was punished. He hated to see his brother cry.

Dean was actually surprised, though, at how angry Sam was at their dad. He also was surprised at how that made him feel. Although, he didn't like to hear Sam say that he hated John, it made him feel good to know that _someone_ was angry on his behalf.

He also wondered how Uncle Bobby felt about the way John had punished him. _Did the man think he deserved what he got?_ Dean knew that Bobby was really angry with him for sneaking out, too, but it hurt to think that the man might actually think he deserved to be punished so harshly.

He also knew that if John hadn't been around to punish him, Uncle Bobby would have stepped up and done it himself. Not that he ever thought Bobby would take a belt to him, but he was pretty sure that he would have been in for one heck of a spanking anyway. Probably with Uncle Bobby's dreaded wooden spoon.

Anyway, because Dean could tell that Sam was still really mad at their dad, he did everything he could to keep them away from each other. The only time they were really around John was at mealtimes and when he came in to say goodnight to them. Otherwise, Dean and Sam were usually holed up in their room, playing games and reading books. Dean felt like he was going stir-crazy and that he might explode if he had to play one more game of Slap Jack.

"Let's go outside for a while," he finally said. "I can't stay in here anymore."

"You can't go outside, Dean. Daddy will be mad."

"He never said I was grounded, Sammy. Besides, we've been holed up in this room for almost three days now. I need some air."

Sam didn't say anything, mostly because he was feeling the same way. But when Dean started to leave the room, he stopped him. "Wait! Let me go down and ask Daddy, okay?"

Dean nodded and watched as Sam went out the door.

* * *

John was surprised when he looked up from the book he was reading to find Sam standing in front of him. He knew the kid had been avoiding him and he knew that Sam was mad at him for punishing his brother. And while he appreciated the loyalty between the two boys, it also annoyed him just a little. Sometimes, John felt that no matter what he did, it was the wrong thing to someone.

"Hey, kiddo," he said with a small smile. "What have you been up to?"

Sam shuffled his small feet and stared down at the carpet. "Nothing. We've been playing Slap Jack."

John inwardly groaned at that, remembering how much Sam and Dean loved that game. They used to play it all the time and the sounds of their hands slapping the table every time a Jack showed up always irritated him. Eventually, he had to ban them from playing it when he was home, for his own sanity.

John watched as Sam continued to shuffle his feet across the carpet. He was expecting the boy to tell him what he needed, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. "Sam? Did you need something? I'm kind of busy here." He felt a little guilty at the look on Sam's face after he said that he was busy.

When Sam still didn't answer, John's tone grew firmer. "Sammy, look at me and tell me what you're wanting to tell me."

Sam stopped his shuffling and looked up at his dad. "Um….we were wondering if…um, if we can go outside and play…."

John checked his watch and looked out the window to make sure it wasn't raining. "I don't see why you can't. At least for a few hours." Sam's eyes brightened at his answer. "What made you think you couldn't go outside?"

"Dean thought he might be grounded after….um, after…..you know….." Sam answered.

"I never said he was grounded," John said.

"He wasn't sure and he didn't want to make you mad again," Sam said in a small voice.

John rubbed a hand across his tired face. He hated that his boys seemed scared to talk to him about this. "Tell Dean he's not grounded, okay? You guys can go outside and play. And Sam? Tell Dean that the next time he has a question about something, he needs to come and ask me himself. He's too old to be sending his brother down to do it."

"He didn't send me down, Daddy."

"Just tell him, Sam. Okay?"

"Yes, sir, Daddy."

Without another word, Sam turned and left, leaving John feeling even more tired than he was before.

* * *

Author's note: I'm thinking of doing a little time jump in this story. Maybe catapulting them into their teen years. What do you all think of that? Or would you rather I continue at their current age and slowly progress from there? Would love your opinion/thoughts on that.

Thanks for reading and reviewing. Your support is so very much appreciated, just so you all know.


	35. Cats in the Cradle

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 35

Cats in the Cradle

* * *

The Winchesters ended up staying at Bobby's for another two weeks before John decided to move on. Sam had hoped that they would go back to where they were before, but John had plans for another hunt in another town. Both Dean and Sam were sad to be leaving Bobby's house, so the mood on their last night there was rather depressing.

Bobby made a big deal out of making the boys' favorite meals for them. He even made a pie for Dean, but the three Winchesters noticed that the older hunter was quieter than he normally was. As they ate dinner, Bobby barely talked unless someone spoke to him directly. He watched the boys as they ate their dinner, smiling when Sam asked Dean to help him cut up his chicken and laughing when they fought over the last breadstick. He wasn't surprised when Dean gave up and let Sam have it. What he was surprised at, though, was how much he was going to miss having the Winchester family there. Especially, Sam and Dean.

Once dinner was done and the pie had been demolished, thanks to Dean, Bobby and John moved to the study to discuss the upcoming hunt while Sam and Dean cleaned up the kitchen. They were deep in a discussion about the different ways to track and kill a crocotta when they heard a loud crash followed by a scream of pain coming from the kitchen. Immediately, both men jumped up and ran towards the sound.

Seconds later, they ran through the kitchen door to find Sam and Dean on the floor. Sam was crying loudly and Dean was holding him tightly to his chest as he held a dishtowel to Sam's arm. Bobby and John instantly noticed the blood that was dripping down Sam's arm.

"What happened?" John asked as he stepped forward and reached for Sam. Sam clung tighter to Dean, though. As John checked out the wound on Sam's arm, Bobby turned and left the room to grab the nearest first aid kit he could find.

"Dean? Report!" John roared.

"I-I didn't mean to, Dad. It was an accident, I swear."

John pulled back the towel to look at the wound and Sam started crying even more when he saw the blood pouring out of it. John quickly clamped the towel back over the wound. "What did you do, Dean?"

Dean now had tears in his eyes and he was staring down at the floor. "I-I was just , um…. Sammy was handing the dirty dishes to me so I could wash them and I didn't see him pick up the butcher knife. I'm sorry, Dad. It's my fault. I wasn't watching him close enough."

"Were you playing with the knife?!" John asked Sam, who was still crying inconsolably. He wasn't surprised when it was Dean who answered him instead.

"He wasn't playing with it, Dad. I took it from him, but when I did, I accidentally pushed him and he slipped off the chair and fell. His arm must have hit the knife on the way down."

Bobby had just returned with the first aid kit as John was lifting Sam up off the floor. John moved Sam over to the table and set him down right on top of it. "Dean, get me another towel. And a bowl of warm water."

Dean quickly moved to do as his father said, but his eyes kept darting back to his little brother. Bobby opened up the aid kit and started removing what they needed.

"I think we're going to have to sew him up, Bobby. The gash looks a little deep."

Bobby looked through the kit again to find the sutures. By that time, Dean had returned to the table with the towel and the bowl of water. He spilled a little of the water as he was setting it on the table, but no one said anything. Once John had everything in front of him, he leaned down and looked Sam in the eye.

"Sammy, you're gonna have to stop crying, son, and hold still. I need to clean your arm and sew you up."

John started to take the towel off, but Sam grabbed his hand and wailed even louder. "No, Daddy! Don't take it off! My arm's gonna fall off!"

"Sam! Your arm's not gonna fall off. Now, let go and sit still."

Sam was sobbing harder and wouldn't let go of his dad's hand. Bobby and Dean could tell that John was growing more and more frustrated by the second.

"Sam! Knock it off!" John roared. "I can't fix you up if you won't let me."

"Dad, he's scared," Dean said, trying to get his father to calm down. He moved over to Sam and grabbed his hand, trying to pry it off of John. "Sammy, look at me. Please, Sammy."

Sam looked over at Dean, but didn't let go of John's hand. "It h-hurts, Dean."

"I know it does, Sammy. But, Dad's gonna make it feel better, okay? He's gonna fix it up, but you gotta let go of his hand." Dean was relieved when he saw Sam's grip loosen and eventually let go. Sam started to look back down at his arm, but Dean stopped him. "Hey, little bro…..keep your eyes on me, okay?"

Sam's eyes shot back up to his brother and Dean did his best to distract him from what was going on. Every time Sam felt John doing something, though, he started to panic again. Somehow, Dean was always able to distract him. After a few minutes, John had Sam's arm cleaned up and disinfected and was ready to start suturing it.

"Okay, Sam…. I'm going to numb your arm up a little first and then I'm going to sew you up, okay?"

Sam's eyes widened when he saw the needle and syringe that Bobby was filling. "No, Daddy! I don't want a shot!" Sam started struggling to get down from the table.

"Dean! Hold him still," John ordered.

"C'mon, Sammy. Hold still! Please? Just for a little while longer. Then we can go upstairs and play a game, okay? Or play whatever you want. Just hold still."

Sam's breath hitched in his chest as he moved his hand over to grab Dean's. Dean put his other arm around Sam and pulled him in to his side, talking to him the whole while. He started telling Sam a story and the boy was so engrossed in it that he barely noticed the numbing shot John gave him.

Twenty minutes later, Sam was the proud new owner of six stitches. He stared down at them as John started to wrap his arm up. "Dean, am I going to have a scar like you?" he asked, looking up hopefully at his brother. Sam had been oddly obsessed with the scar on Dean's leg from the knife wound the shapeshifter had given him. Dean wouldn't admit it, but the scar made him feel like a badass, too.

"I think so, Sammy!"

Once John had finished dressing the wound, he ordered the boys to sit down at the table while Bobby went back to the study. Dean sat down and pulled a still clingy Sam up onto his lap. They both watched John closely as he reached down and picked up the rather large knife and put it in the sink. Their eyes never left him until he finally sat down across from them.

"Sam, what's the rule about you touching knives," John asked.

Unsurprisingly, it was Dean who answered. "Dad, it was my fault, not Sammy's."

"Dean, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your brother. Sam?"

"I'm not supposed to," Sam answered quietly.

"You're right. You're not supposed to touch knives. So, why did you?"

Sam squirmed in Dean's lap. "Dean asked me to hand him the dishes, Daddy. That's what I did."

"But you know you're not supposed to touch knives, Sam. You should have let Dean get it."

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy. I was just helping Dean."

"Dad, don't be mad at Sammy. I shouldn't have grabbed it like that. It's my fault he fell."

"I said I wasn't talking to you, Dean. Go upstairs and get ready for bed."

Dean hesitated, not wanting to leave Sam to face their dad on his own. But, unfortunately, John's patience was running low.

"Damn it, boy! Do what I said!"

Dean gently pushed Sam off of his lap and stood up. With one last glance at his brother, he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

* * *

Bobby could clearly hear the frustration in John's voice and was beginning to wonder if he needed to intervene. He had just made his mind up to go back into the kitchen when he heard John yelling at Dean to go upstairs. He stepped out of the study just in time to see Dean heading for the stairs.

"Hey, kid, everything okay?"

Dean shook his head sadly. "Dad's mad at Sammy," he said. "And it's not his fault, Uncle Bobby. It's all my fault."

"What makes you think that?"

"I should've been watching him closer! If I had, he wouldn't have touched the knife at all. And now he got hurt and Dad's probably going to punish him. It's not fair."

"Dean, no one expects you to have your eye on your brother every second of the day."

"Dad does."

"Well, that's not possible and John should realize that. And your brother knows he's not supposed to touch knives. He's the one that made the decision to do that."

"Yeah, but I asked him to hand the dirty dishes to me. He was just doing what I asked him to do, Uncle Bobby."

Bobby sighed deeply. "Dean, I know you think your brother is still too little to know better, but he's not. He's the smartest seven-year-old I've ever seen and he's smart enough to know when he should or shouldn't do something. Half the time, _he's_ keeping _you_ from doing something that he knows will get you in trouble. Sam knew he wasn't supposed to pick that knife up, but he did it anyway."

"But, he's hurt! Dad shouldn't punish him, Uncle Bobby!"

"You have to trust your daddy to do right by him, Dean."

Dean didn't look completely convinced, but he at least looked less anxious. Bobby decided to capitalize on that. "What do you say we go get a game ready for when Sam and your dad are done? I was thinking a game of Sorry might be fun."

"Really? You'll play with us?" Dean asked, an unusual excitement lighting his eyes.

"I will, but don't expect me to go easy on you. Or Sam. When I play, I play to win."

Dean rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, sure you do. That's why Sam beat you at Checkers five times in a row last week."

"No, Sam beat me five times in a row because he's smarter than I am," Bobby laughed. "That boy plays a mean game of Checkers."

Dean and Bobby walked up the stairs, neither one of them wanting to think about what was happening in the kitchen.

* * *

John didn't really know how to handle the situation with Sam. For the most part, Sam was a rule follower, although he had noticed a little more stubbornness coming out of the boy lately. It seemed that the older Sam got, the more he started questioning things. And while John appreciated the inquisitiveness of his youngest, he didn't appreciate having his rules and orders questioned in any way.

Sam knew he wasn't supposed to touch knives. He knew that they were dangerous. So for him to do what he did meant that he had chosen to ignore one of John's edicts. And that, in John's mind, equaled willful disobedience. Both Sam and Dean knew that the consequences of willful disobedience always included a spanking.

Looking down at his youngest, though, John suddenly realized that he didn't have the heart to go through with it. Sam's face was still red and tear-stained and he was holding his arm tightly to his stomach. As John looked down at him, Sam was looking back up at him, his large hazel eyes peering out of the too long fringe of his hair. There was something about the way Sam looked at him that always made his heart melt. _And made it near impossible to punish him._

"I'm disappointed in you, Sam. You know better than to do what you did, don't you?"

"Yes, Daddy," Sam answered miserably. "I promise I won't do it again! I'll never, ever touch a knife again, I swear."

John nearly laughed at the vehemence in Sam's voice. He also noticed how Sam had started saying 'I swear" more and more often like Dean always did. Standing up, he walked over to where Sam was sitting and picked him up. Once Sam was settled on his hip, John looked down at him. "Sam, why do you think I set that 'no touching knives' rule for you?"

"Because knives can hurt you, Daddy."

"Exactly! And the last thing I want is for you to get hurt, kiddo. Like you did tonight."

Sam looked sadly down at his arm. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Me, too, Sammy. Dean should have been watching you better." John couldn't help the bit of anger that crept into his voice with that. He trusted Dean to watch out for Sammy and to keep him from doing stupid things like picking up knives.

"Are you mad at Dean, Daddy?"

"He wasn't following orders, Sam. He knows he's supposed to be watching you. If he had been, this wouldn't have happened, so yeah…. I'm a little mad at Dean." Sam suddenly started crying again, taking John by surprise. "What's wrong, Sammy? Is your arm hurting?"

Sam shook his head, but couldn't stop the tears that were falling.

"Sammy, why are you crying?"

"You're gonna spank Dean with the belt again," he sobbed. "Please don't do that, Daddy. Please?"

John felt his heart sink at Sam's words. "Sammy, calm down. I'm not gonna spank Dean, okay?"

"You're not? Promise?"

"I promise. Now calm down. Take some deep breaths for me." Sam fisted his hand in John's shirt and took several deep breaths. "There you go, son."

Sam rubbed his face into John's shirt and then started playing with one of the buttons. "Are you gonna spank _me_ , Daddy?' he finally asked.

"No, Sam. I'm not. But I think you've lost your TV privileges for a while. And I think you'll be going to bed earlier for the next week, too."

"Okay, Daddy," Sam answered sadly.

"Okay, let's get you up to bed, okay?"

John carried Sam upstairs. When he opened the bedroom door, he was surprised to see Bobby and Dean both sitting on the floor with a game spread out in front of them. "What's going on in here?" he asked.

Dean was looking at his brother and didn't answer the question. Knowing that John was going to get mad if no one answered, Bobby finally spoke up. "What does it look like, Winchester?" he growled. "We're gonna play a game."

John walked over and put Sam down on the bed. Dean's eyes followed them, never leaving his brother. It was obvious that he was trying to determine if John had punished Sam.

"Sam? You okay?"

"My arm hurts, Dean," Sam said miserably.

"Do you want to play a game with me and Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, hoping to take his brother's mind off of his arm.

"It's time for Sam to go to bed," John interrupted.

"Dad, I told Sam we'd play a game if he sat still, remember? And he did!"

"Dean…."

This time it was Bobby that interrupted. "John, it won't hurt to let him play one game. I think he's earned it, don't you?"

John wanted to argue that Sam's misbehavior trumped the fact that he sat still long enough to have his arm sutured, but he didn't. He was suddenly really tired and he still had to deal with Dean.

"One game," he finally agreed. "But, I need to talk to Dean first."

John turned and walked out of the room, obviously expecting Dean to follow. Dean pushed himself up off the floor and reluctantly followed his father out of the room. He was surprised when John led him into the bathroom. Once they were inside, John closed the door.

"Sit down, Dean," he said, pointing to the closed toilet seat. Dean quickly sat while John sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Your brother had to have six stitches on his arm."

Dean didn't really know if he was supposed to answer the man, so he didn't.

"Why weren't you watching your brother, Dean?"

"I was, Dad."

"Were you? Because I think if you were really watching him, he wouldn't have been able to pick up that knife in the first place."

Dean suddenly felt anger shoot through him as he remembered Uncle Bobby's words from earlier. He really _couldn't_ watch his brother every second of every day. Dean allowed the anger he was feeling to flow through him and into his words. "I _was_ watching him, Dad. But I can't watch him every second!"

"Watch your tone, boy!"

"I'm sorry," Dean immediately said. "But, it's true, Dad. I was washing the dishes, so I couldn't keep my eyes on him."

John stared at his son for what seemed like a long time, but finally ceded the point. "Okay, you're right. You're right, Dean. You can't keep your eye on him every second. But maybe you can just promise to keep a closer eye on him from now on."

Dean didn't really know how he could possibly do that. Ever since the Shtriga incident, he kept as close of an eye on his little brother as he possibly could. But, he knew there was no point in arguing with his father. Instead, he answered the only way he could. "Yes, sir."

John gave his son a single nod of the head before standing up and opening the door. "Let's go. I'm sure Sammy's chomping at the bit to start that game."

John led Dean back to the bedroom. Sam and Bobby were still sitting on the floor, but both looked up when the door opened. John didn't miss how both of them looked Dean over, making sure that he was in one piece. He couldn't help but feel slightly offended by that.

"Dean! C'mon! You can be the green pieces!"

Dean smiled at his brother before sitting down next to him. They were so used to only the two of them playing so they were both excited to be playing a game with Uncle Bobby. Dean really wanted to ask his dad to play, too, but he knew the man would say no. John Winchester wasn't the kind of dad that got down on the floor and played games with his sons.

Just as Dean was thinking that, John turned to leave. He had just made it to the door when Sam stopped him. "Do you wanna play with us, Daddy?" he asked. "You can be the yellow pieces."

Dean and Bobby turned to look at John, too. Neither one expected John to say yes.

"I have a hunt to prepare for, Sam," John answered. He silently cursed himself when he saw the look on Sam's face. It wasn't that he didn't want to be the kind of dad that got down on the floor and played with his sons. He wished that he could be that kind of dad. But, he had a job to do. A job that was more important that playing games. A job that saved lives. A job that maybe saved another man from losing his wife or another son from losing his mother.

Without another word, he walked out of the room. He felt a little guilty at leaving Bobby to deal with the tender, broken hearts of the two boys, but he kept walking. As he left, he heard the sound of Bobby's voice as the man tried to cheer Sam and Dean up.

"Okay, who goes first?"

"Sam goes first because he's the youngest," Dean said. Bobby could still hear the disappointment in his voice.

"Wait a minute! I think I should go first, since I'm the oldest."

"Dean says the youngest always goes first, Uncle Bobby. And that's me!"

"Well, if _Dean_ said, then I guess that's just the way it is, right, Sam?"

Sam grinned as he drew the first card, already forgetting his disappointment in his dad. Bobby noticed it took a little longer for Dean to forget his.

* * *

Author's note: Well, I had planned on this chapter to move the Winchesters away from Bobby's house, but I didn't quite get there. Dang these characters for always having a mind of their own, lol. And dang John Winchester for not realizing what his obsession is costing him.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. If you're interested, I've written a new one-shot called **With Everything I Had** and I'd be honored if you read it. Writing Supernatural fanfiction is quickly becoming an obsession of mine and I've discovered that writing shorter stories is just as much fun as writing the longer ones. Challenging in a totally different way.

Chapter title is from Harry Chapin's Cats in the Cradle song. If you've never heard this song, do yourself a favor and check it out. It's such a sad song.

Anyway, thanks again.


	36. Same Kind of Different

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 36

Same Kind of Different

* * *

It had been almost a month since the Winchesters left Bobby's house and both Sam and Dean were miserable. They spent a week in Toledo where John took care of a poltergeist, before moving on to Dayton where he hunted a black dog. After a week there, they moved on to Fort Wayne, Indiana where a wraith was feeding on the unsuspecting students at the local college. At each place, John parked his boys in a cheap motel room, instructing them to stay inside the room with the doors and windows locked and salted. Every time he left, his last words were to Dean…..

"Watch out for Sammy, Dean."

Dean wanted to roll his eyes at that, but he wasn't stupid. Instead, he would just nod his head and answer "Yes, sir" just like he'd been doing for years.

Now, they found themselves in a small town outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. John had actually rented a small house, knowing that his current hunt was going to take him more time than usual. Because they were going to be there for a while, he decided to enroll the boys in school. They had missed so much over the last few months and he knew Sam was anxious to go back. Of course, Dean wasn't happy at all.

During the time they spent at the other hunts, Bobby had taken the time to gather up the previous school records, making it easier to enroll Sam and Dean into the appropriate grades. Dean was just glad that the school was small and that Sam's classroom was only a few doors down from him. After everything that had happened, he wasn't taking any chances. Despite the fact that his dad's constant reminder to watch out for his brother annoyed him, Dean's whole purpose in life was to do just that.

And so, it started again.

Dean spent almost every minute of the school day wondering if Sam was okay. He was too distracted with thoughts of his brother to really pay attention in class and his teacher wasn't happy with him because of it. But, Dean didn't care. He tried to pay attention, but every time he heard someone walking in the hallway, his heart started pounding and it took everything he had not to jump up from his desk and run to Sam's classroom.

He was always the last one in the classroom when the starting bell rang and the first to leave when school was over. He ate his lunch with Sam every day and sat on a bench during recess, watching his little brother running around the playground with the other kids in his class. Dean didn't even try to make friends.

Not that he didn't want to, though. Sometimes when he was watching Sammy play, his eyes would roam over to where the boys from his class were playing football or basketball. He'd watch from afar as they played tag and threw Frisbees, showing off to the group of girls always hanging around the edge of the field.

He watched, but his eyes never strayed too far or for too long from his little brother.

* * *

The first time John returned, he had been gone for three days. The second time, it had been five days. But when it had been almost a week without any word from the man, Dean started to get nervous. Usually, John would call every other night to check on the boys, making sure that everything was okay. He'd call, letting the phone ring one time before hanging up and calling back. Dean knew to wait for the coded ring. And he knew not to answer the phone at any other time.

At the moment, though, if the phone rang, he would have picked it up immediately. He would give anything to hear his dad's gravelly voice, even if he was chewing him out for not following protocol.

By the end of the week, Sam was starting to pick up on some of Dean's nervousness. From the moment they stepped into the small house until the moment they went to bed, Dean would pace the small living room, stopping every third or fourth trip around the room to look out the window. Every hour or so, he would step over to the phone and pick it up, making sure that he still heard a dial tone. He barely spoke to Sam, giving only the vaguest answers to any question thrown his way. Eventually, Sam couldn't take it any longer.

"Dean? What's wrong?" he finally asked as he let his fork drop back down to his plate. When Dean didn't answer, he tried again. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean asked as he looked over at his brother in confusion. "Did you say something, Sammy?"

"Yeah. What's wrong? You're being all weird."

"No, I'm not," Dean instantly declared.

"Yeah, you are! You keep looking at the door and you didn't even eat anything." In Sam's mind, that was the kicker. Dean not eating wasn't a normal thing. In fact, Dean not eating was a bad thing.

"I-I'm just not hungry, okay? I ate a big lunch today."

Sam knew that his brother was lying, because he had been there when Dean packed their lunches. He watched as Dean took the last two pieces of bread to make a single cheese sandwich. He watched when Dean wrapped the sandwich up in a paper towel and put it in Sam's lunch bag. He watched as Dean divided up the last bag of chips into two small baggies, putting the one with almost twice as much in it into Sam's bag. He also watched as he put the very last apple into his little brother's bag.

Sam knew that Dean barely had any lunch at all. And now he wasn't eating dinner, either.

"Are you sick?" he finally asked his brother as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"I'm fine, Sam."

Sam picked his fork back up and picked at the remaining little bit of macaroni and cheese on his plate. They had been eating macaroni and cheese for the last three nights and he couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a lot of cheese anymore. In fact, it was mostly just tasteless macaroni.

"When's Dad coming home?" Sam asked.

Dean snapped his head over to look at his brother. He could tell that it was just an innocent question, but he still didn't really know how to answer it. "Soon," he finally answered as he looked away. He hated lying to Sam, even if he knew it was the right thing to do. _Or, at least, the easy thing to do._

"Finish up, Sammy. You gotta take a bath tonight, remember?"

"But, I wanted to watch TV tonight, Dean," Sam whined. "You said I could watch Full House!"

Dean groaned at the thought of having to sit through another episode of that show, not understanding how his little brother could actually like it. In his mind, it was just a stupid show about a stupid family with stupid problems.

"Sam, I hate that show!" he couldn't help but whine.

"You said I could watch it!" Sam yelled as he kicked his feet against the legs of the table. Unbeknownst to him, one of the legs was barely hanging on and after the sharp kick, it gave away, causing the whole table to tip over.

Dean tried to grab his plate before it crashed to the floor, but he missed it. Seconds later, everything settled and he just sat there, staring at the broken dishes and spilled milk. His eyes burned with tears, but he quickly wiped them away, turning instead to glare at his brother.

Before any words could come out of his mouth, Sam scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry, Dean," he cried. "I-I didn't mean to do that!"

Dean watched as huge tears rolled down Sam's little face and he suddenly couldn't keep his own at bay any longer. He didn't really even know why he was upset over the spilled food and broken dishes, but he was. Maybe it was because they didn't have hardly any food left in the small house. Maybe it was because Sam was so upset. Maybe it was because he was just so tired of having to be the one in charge. Or maybe it was because he had no idea where his dad was and he was scared to think about what might have happened to him.

When Sam noticed that his brother was crying, he started crying even harder. Dean never cried- unless he was being punished by their dad- so to see him crying now was awful. And Sam knew it was his fault. _If he hadn't been acting like such a baby, none of this would have happened._

Now scrambling over to the mess on the floor, Sam bent down to clean it up. He had just started picking up the broken pieces of Dean's plate when Dean yelled at him to stop.

"Sammy, no!"

Sam jerked his head up to look at his brother, letting the piece of broken dinnerware fall out of his hand. As he dropped it, he felt a sharp sting on the tip of his index finger, causing him to cry out.

"Sam!" Dean moved over to Sam and grabbed his hand. "Sam, don't touch anything. It'll cut you." He looked down at Sam's hand and was surprised to see blood. He felt panic stir inside of him, but he forced himself to stay calm. Looking back up into Sam's face, he tried to stop the kid from freaking out at the sight of his own blood. "It's just a little cut, Sammy. It just needs a band-aid, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam sniffled.

"It's okay." Dean stood up and grabbed a paper towel from the counter. Once he was back at Sam's side, he gently took his hand and pressed the towel to the finger that was bleeding. "See? It's hardly bleeding at all. I think you just nicked it."

Sam kept his eyes off of his finger, not wanting to see it bleeding. Instead, he just kept his eyes on Dean's face, trusting his brother to take care of him. After a few minutes of holding pressure to the wound, Dean lifted the paper towel away. "See? It already stopped bleeding, Sammy. It's okay."

Sam glanced down quickly at his finger before returning his eyes to Dean. "Can I still have a band-aid?" he asked.

"Sure you can. I'll be right back." Dean stood up and walked quickly to the bathroom. He returned a minute later with a battered first-aid kit. Opening it up, he took out the smallest band-aid he could find and wrapped it around Sam's finger. "There you go," he said with a grin. "All better."

Sam checked out the band-aid. "Thanks, Dean," he finally said.

"Hey, that's what big brothers are for, Sammy."

Dean stooped over and started carefully picking up the broken dinnerware. "Listen, why don't you go see if your show is on, okay? You can take a bath after it's over."

Sam threw his arms around Dean's waist before scurrying into the small living room to turn on the television. Dean kept his eyes on his brother for a few more seconds, before giving the kitchen mess his full attention. After getting everything cleaned up, he joined Sam on the couch. Sam was completely engrossed in the sitcom, so he didn't notice how Dean's eyes barely stayed on the television for more than a few seconds at a time before moving back to the front door and window. He didn't notice when the look of despair returned to his brother's face.

* * *

Once Sam's show was over, Dean ushered him into the bathroom for his bath. Dean sat on the toilet while Sam played in the bathtub and eventually, he moved to help Sam wash his hair.

"Don't get the soap in my eyes, Dean," Sam begged as he tried to move away from Dean's hands.

"I won't if you would just hold still," Dean growled. Sam moved even further away from Dean, causing some water to splash into his face. "C'mon, Sammy," Dean yelled. "Sit still. I'm almost done."

When Sam continued to try to escape Dean's reach, Dean had had enough. Without a word, he reached into the tub and smacked Sam on the thigh. Sam immediately stopped squirming and just stared at his brother. He couldn't believe that Dean had smacked him.

"You smacked me!" he cried, obviously confused by the turn of events.

"I said hold still, Sammy," Dean answered. "I need to get the soap out of your hair."

"You can't smack me, Dean. Only daddies are allowed to do that. And Uncle Bobbies. I'm gonna tell Daddy when he gets home."

"Sam, c'mon. It didn't even hurt."

"Yes, it did, Dean! It hurt a lot."

Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the towel from the towel rack. "Let's go, Sam. It's almost time for bed." As Sam stood up, Dean winced at the sight of the red handprint on Sam's thigh. _Maybe he'd smacked his brother's leg harder than he thought._

After making sure that Sam dried himself off good enough, Dean helped him into his pajamas. Sam didn't seem interested in talking to him at the moment. Once he was dressed, Sam turned and walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom they shared. Without a word, he climbed up onto the bed and pulled the blanket up over his head. Dean sat down on the bed next to him.

"Sam, I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have done that."

Sam just burrowed deeper under the blanket. "C'mon, Sammy…. I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, but sorry isn't as good as not doing it in the first place, remember? That's what Daddy says."

"I know, Sammy, but I did it and I'm sorry I did it, okay? Forgive me?"

Sam thought hard for several long seconds before poking his head out of the blanket to look at his brother. "It really hurt, Dean," he said pitifully. "A lot!"

"Sam….."

"Maybe it'll feel better if you kiss it," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear. He had heard one of his classmates talking about how his mom always kissed his 'owies' to make them feel better. Sam thought that was kind of stupid, but who was he to know. _He didn't even have a mom._

"Dude, I'm not kissing your leg," Dean yelled, causing Sam to break out in giggles. Dean looked down at his brother, surprised that he was laughing about it. He figured Sam would be mad about that for at least another day or so.

Sam laughed for almost another minute, stopping only when his side started hurting. He almost started again when he saw the disgusted look on his brother's face. Dean didn't seem to think it was quite as funny.

"Are you done, now?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, go to sleep, Sammy."

"Wait! Aren't you coming to bed, Dean?"

"Yeah, but I need to take a shower first. I'll only be a few minutes, okay? And I'll leave the bathroom door open."

Sam wanted to follow his brother into the bathroom, but he knew Dean wouldn't go for that. He hated being all alone in the old house, even if it was just for a few minutes. He also hated it when Dean acted weird.

Dean was only gone for about five minutes, much to Sam's relief. Once he came out of the bathroom, Sam listened as he made his way downstairs. He knew that Dean was checking that the doors were locked and that the salt was still in place one last time before going to bed. Sam had no idea why their family poured salt at the doors and windows, but he knew that it was important. _Maybe one day he'd ask his brother. But, not today._

Dean was gone a little longer than it normally took him to check everything and when he finally returned, Sam noticed a strange look on his face. He could tell that Dean was worried about something and he was smart enough to know that it was probably something to do with their dad. Sam had no idea how long their dad had been gone, but he knew it was longer than it usually was.

Dean moved over to his side of the bed, keeping his back to Sam. Sam watched as he bent down and picked up the pillow to look underneath it. He knew that Dean kept a gun under his pillow and he knew he wasn't ever to touch it. That was one rule he would never break.

Once Dean was in bed, he turned out the small light on the table. The hall light was still on, so there was at least some light filtering into the small room. Dean knew that Sam didn't like to sleep in the dark.

"Goodnight, Sammy," he said as a rush of weariness swept over him.

"Wait, Dean! Aren't you going to read me a story?"

"I'm too tired, Sam," Dean said with a yawn.

"But, Dean….."

"Please, Sam? Can't we just go to sleep? It's already past your bedtime."

Sam started to argue, but when Dean yawned again, he decided not to. Instead, he rolled over, curling into a ball. As he pulled his legs up to his stomach, his feet came to rest against the small of Dean's back. Dean flinched at the coldness of his feet.

"Damn it, Sam! Your feet are like icicles!"

"Sorry," Sam whispered.

Dean sat up and climbed out of bed. Sam listened as he opened up one of the dresser drawers and rummaged through it. When he came back to the bed, he pulled the covers away from Sam and grabbed his feet. The next thing Sam knew, Dean was putting warm, woolen socks on his cold feet. "There you go, Sammy," he said as he pulled the blankets back over his brother.

Sam waited until Dean was back in the bed before saying anything. "Thanks, Dean.

Dean grunted in response. Just as he was about to doze off, Sam spoke again.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sammy."

Minutes later, both boys were sound asleep. Sam was resting comfortably against his brother, his breathing even and peaceful. Dean, on the other hand, was sleeping much less peacefully as his worry for his father seeped into his dreams.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait. Life's been a little busy lately, but I really wanted to get another chapter out before I head off to Vegas for the SPN convention. Any of you going?

I really hope that you all are doing okay in the wake of the recent news. I know it sucks and we're all a little shocked, but I think we knew it was coming. I'm trying to stay focused on the positive, as much as I can. We've had fifteen seasons of this remarkable little show and for that I'm truly grateful. At least, we know that the show will live on through our stories and art, right? And the SPN family and friends we've made.

Take care of yourselves and each other. And thanks for reading and reviewing.


	37. Here Without You

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 37

Here Without You

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke up and immediately left the room to see if his dad had come home while they were asleep. He didn't even realize it, but he was holding his breath the whole time he looked through the small house. When he finished his search, he let out the breath he was holding in one long sigh. His dad was still nowhere to be found and Dean was getting more worried by the second.

John hadn't ever been gone for so long before without any form of communication and Dean knew that he should call Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby. He also knew that if he did that it meant that he and Sam would have to uproot again. And Dean was tired of uprooting. He was tired of always being on the move. He was tired of having to try to explain to his brother why they were moving yet again without giving him the real reason for it. _He was just tired._

So, he made a pact with himself. He decided that if his dad wasn't back by the time they got home from school on Monday, he'd make that phone call. He'd call Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby and tell them what was going on. And he'd prepare himself for the emotional fallout of making that call. Sam would be upset. And his dad would probably be upset, too, when he showed up and realized what Dean had done.

 _But, he didn't really have a choice, did he?_ They were almost out of food and the last thing they needed was for someone at school to realize that neither he nor Sam had an adequate lunch to eat. And not only that, but Dean really didn't want his brother to go hungry. Sam didn't deserve that. He was glad that it was Saturday because he didn't want to send Sam off to school without having anything to pack him for lunch. And with it being Saturday, that gave him two whole days to come up with a plan. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something.

As he looked out the window for the tenth time since he'd been up, Dean made a decision. He knew that his brother was going to be hungry when he woke up and he knew that there was very little of anything left in the small kitchen. He also knew that he really didn't have two days to come up with a plan. He had to do something before Sam woke up. He had to find a way to either get some money or get some food. _And he had to do it now._

Dean closed the door quietly behind him, making sure that it was locked. He hated leaving Sam by himself, but he couldn't do what he was about to do with Sam tagging along. Once he was reasonably sure that Sam was as safe as he could be, Dean started walking towards the little grocery store at the end of the road they were on. It was only about a half a mile from their house and Dean nearly ran all the way. He didn't want to be gone from Sam any longer than he absolutely had to.

While he was running, he tried to come up with another plan, but he couldn't. He knew that what he was thinking of doing was wrong and he hated the idea of Pastor Jim or Bobby finding out, but he really didn't feel like he had much of a choice. Sam needed food. And that was way more important than the guilt he felt for what he was about to do.

Dean didn't like the idea of stealing, but he'd do it if he had to. For Sammy.

The bell on the door clanged noisily when Dean pushed the door open. The man behind the counter looked over at him and gave him a small wave. Dean and Sam had been in the store several times before and Dean had even talked to the man a few times. He thought the man was really nice and the thought of stealing from him turned his stomach a little. He vowed to himself that he'd pay the man back some day. He didn't know how or when, but he'd keep his word somehow.

Putting his left hand in the pocket of his jeans, Dean fiddled with a dollar bill and several coins. All he had left of the money his dad had left for them was $1.45. Dean knew that wasn't going to buy him much of anything, but at least he'd be able to act like he was a paying customer. Stepping over to the bread aisle, he picked up the cheapest loaf of bread he could find, which was only ten cents less than the money he had in his pocket. Without looking too suspicious, he moved over to where the peanut butter was. He pretended to look at several different brands, reading the labels on the back as if he were comparing the nutritional value or something, while slowly grabbing a small container from the bottom shelf and sticking it in his jacket pocket. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he made himself take several deep breaths before moving onto the next aisle.

He had just made it to the shelf of soups when he heard the door to the store open. He looked up at the man behind the counter and when he realized that the man's attention was now on whoever had come into the store, Dean grabbed several cans of soup and stuffed them up his jacket sleeve. He knew he'd have to be really careful when he was paying for the bread, because the last thing he needed was for the cans of soup to slide down or fall out of his sleeve.

Feeling like his luck was about to run out, Dean headed towards the counter with the loaf of bread in his hand, ready to pay and get out of there. He couldn't bring himself to look the man in the face, so he kept his eyes on the counter instead.

"Good morning," the man said, smiling widely at Dean. "You're up awfully early on a Saturday. Big plans for the day?"

"Uh…no, sir. My, uh…. my dad just needed me to pick up some bread. He's making French Toast for breakfast."

"Oh, well, good for him. French Toast is one of my favorites. How is that little brother of yours?"

"He's okay. Still sleeping, I think."

"Well, it _is_ a Saturday. Okay, that'll be $1.35."

Dean pulled the money out of his pocket and laid it up on the counter, making sure to keep his right arm down at his side. The man took the money, leaving a dime on the counter. "Do you need a bag for that?" he asked.

"No, sir."

The man pushed the bread back to Dean and then reached over the counter. He grabbed two candy bars from the display rack and handed them to Dean. "Here you go. Here's a treat for you and your brother."

"I-I don't have any more money to pay for that," Dean stuttered.

"It's on me. Kids deserve a treat every now and then, don't you think?"

Dean felt guilty, knowing that he didn't deserve any kind of treat at all, but he didn't argue with the man. He could just imagine the look on Sam's face when he handed him a candy bar. So, not wanting to insult the man or screw up a chance to put a smile on Sam's face, Dean did the only thing he could.

"Thank you, sir," he said as he reached down and picked up the two candy bars.

"You're welcome, kid. Have a nice Saturday, okay?"

"You, too," Dean replied as he made his way to the door. Once he was outside of the store, he let out a deep breath and wiped the fine sheet of sweat off his forehead. He was consumed with guilt, but his need to take care of his little brother overrode anything else he felt. Without another thought as to what he'd just done, Dean turned and started walking back home. He had been gone longer than he wanted to be and he really hoped that Sam was still asleep.

* * *

Almost an hour after Dean woke up, Sam sat up in the bed. He was surprised to see that Dean was already up since he knew his brother usually liked to sleep in on Saturdays. Sam climbed out of bed and made his way downstairs, eager to find his brother and get some breakfast. But, Dean wasn't anywhere around. Sam checked the bathroom, kitchen, living room, and finally their dad's room, but still couldn't find his brother.

"Dean? Where are you? Dean!" Sam yelled at the top of his lungs as he tried not to let panic overwhelm him. It wasn't normal for Dean to be gone like that.

Sam was on his second circuit through the house when he heard the front door open. Running towards the door, he skidded to a stop when he saw Dean walking through it. "Dean! Where were you?!"

Dean looked surprised to see Sam looking so scared. "Sam, why are you already up? It's barely nine o'clock!"

"Where were you?! I woke up and you were gone, Dean! I thought the bad man came and got you again."

Dean felt guilty that Sam was so scared. "I, uh…. I was just outside, Sammy."

"What were you doing?"

"I was, um…. I was just… you know, just getting some fresh air. That's all."

Sam didn't look convinced, especially when he noticed the loaf of bread in Dean's hand, but he didn't question him any further. Instead, the loud grumbling of his stomach steered him in a different direction. "I'm hungry, Dean. Can I have some breakfast?"

Dean made his way into the kitchen to unload his haul, hoping that Sam wasn't going to throw a fit when he found out they were just going to eat toast. Sam always liked to eat cereal for breakfast, but they had used the last of the mild the night before.

Dean stepped over to the toaster and plugged it in. He grabbed three pieces of bread and fed them into the toaster, making sure it was set to the lightest toasting setting. He preferred his toast a little darker, but Sam only liked his barely toasted at all.

Once the bread popped back up, Dean set two slices on a plate and placed it in front of his brother.

"I want cereal, Dean," Sam said instantly.

"We're out of milk, Sam. You're gonna have to eat some toast."

"But, I don't want toast. I want cereal."

Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother. "Well, you can have cereal if you want, but it's gonna be dry cereal."'

"I don't like dry cereal, Dean. That's gross."

"Sammy, we don't have any milk, so it's either dry cereal or toast. You choose."

Sam grabbed the plate of toast and pulled it to him. "Where's the jelly?"

"We don't have any," Dean answered, knowing that Sam wasn't going to be happy about that, either.

"Dean," Sam whined. "I don't like dry toast!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I used the last of the jelly on Thursday when I made your lunch. You can have some peanut butter on your toast." Dean pulled the peanut butter out of his pocket and put it on the table.

"Why do you have the peanut butter in your pocket?" Sam asked as he looked at his brother suspiciously.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Just eat, okay?"

Sam grabbed the peanut butter and spent several seconds trying to open it before Dean grabbed it from him. Once he opened it, Dean scooped out some with a knife and then spread it on Sam's toast. He knew his little brother liked a lot of peanut butter, but he only lightly spread it, knowing that they needed to conserve it for now.

Once he was done, Sam picked up a piece of toast and started eating it. He was almost halfway through with this first piece when he stopped, swallowed, and looked up at Dean.

"I'm thirsty," he said, his voice thick with the peanut butter.

Dean got up from the table and grabbed two glasses out of the cupboard. He started to fill them up with water when Sam interrupted him.

"I don't want water, Dean. I want juice."

"We don't have any juice, Sam. You drank the last of it yesterday."

"Can we go to the store and get some more?" Sam asked hopefully. "And some milk, too?"

"Maybe later," Dean answered, knowing there was no way he could steal milk or juice without getting caught. He'd have to come up with another plan, but for now he was just tired. "C'mon, Sammy. Can't you just drink water for now?"

"The water tastes funny here," Sam whined. "It makes my mouth feel funny, too."

Dean knew what Sam was talking about, because he thought the same thing. He was pretty sure the pipes in the old house were rusty, making the water taste bad, but he couldn't do anything about it. "It won't hurt you, Sam. Just drink it, okay?"

Sam slumped back into his chair, knowing that he wasn't going to get anything any different than what was already in front of him. "This sucks," he said as he took a bite of his toast.

Dean couldn't argue with his little brother on that one.

* * *

The rest of the weekend dragged on, thanks to Sam's constant complaining and Dean's shortened temper. By Sunday night, Sam wasn't even talking to his brother and Dean wasn't upset about that at all. He knew that Sam didn't have any idea of the seriousness of the situation they were in, so he really couldn't blame the kid for acting like a normal kid would act. In fact, he wanted to be able to protect Sam from the reality of their situation, if he could.

After a quick dinner of chicken noodle soup and toast, Dean sent Sam into the bathroom to take a bath. He hadn't eaten much himself over the weekend in an effort to conserve what was left of their food and he had a pounding headache. In fact, his head hurt so much that he almost gave in and called for help.

But, he didn't.

Instead, he rummaged around in the first aid kit until he found a few Tylenol tablets. He wasn't sure how many he should take, so he just took two of them, washing them down with a few sips of the nasty-tasting water. After getting the pills down, Dean sat down on the couch and pulled his backpack to him. He knew he had a test coming up on the Civil War and he knew he would fail it if he didn't do a little bit of studying. Opening the book, he tried to concentrate on the words before him, but he couldn't. His mind kept wandering to the fact that his dad had been gone for almost ten days, that he hadn't heard a single word from the man. Dean was really worried that something had happened to his dad and he really didn't know what to do.

He sat there for a long time, thinking about what was going to happen the next afternoon if John still hadn't shown up by then. Once Sam was out of the bathroom, Dean settled him onto the couch next to him, turning the TV on so Sam could watch America's Funniest Home Videos. Before too long, Sam was laughing hysterically and Dean found himself occasionally joining in.

Once nine o'clock rolled around, Dean shut off the TV and led Sam into their bedroom. It only took a few minutes to get Sam settled and only a few minutes more before he was fast asleep. Dean wanted to spend a little more time reading his history book, but he decided that his head was hurting way too much to be reading anything. He climbed into bed next to Sam and turned off the lamp on the table next to him. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

* * *

Dean hated Mondays with a passion. Usually because they followed a boring, dismal weekend where once again, he and Sam were holed up inside somewhere, bored to death, while other kids were out having adventures and fun. He also hated Mondays because it was the beginning of the week and so far away from another glorious weekend. Dean knew that didn't make any sense, but his head was still hurting too much to figure out what he was trying to say.

Once he dropped Sam off at his classroom, Dean scurried to his own classroom, hoping to make it before the bell rang. He had just slid through the door when the bell rang.

"Cutting it a little close there, Dean," Mr. Daniels said with a frown.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled as he took his seat.

Mr. Daniels kept his eye on him for several seconds before turning back to the class. "Okay, everyone get out a pen or pencil. All other books and things are to be put away. This test is worth twenty-five percent of your grade, so I hope you all studied."

Dean inwardly groaned at the thought that the test was worth so much. He was barely hanging on with a C in the class, so if he bombed this test, he was in big trouble.

 _And he knew he was going to bomb it for sure_.

Taking a pencil out of his backpack, Dean sat back and waited for the test to be handed out. Once he got his copy, he leaned over and started to read, his heart falling with every question he read. _Yeah, he was for surely going to bomb this test._

Halfway through the class period, Dean's eyes started to blur. He put his pencil down and started rubbing his eyes, even though he knew that probably wasn't going to help. Looking around the room, he watched as everyone else was frantically writing out their answers.

"Dean, keep your eyes on your own paper," Mr. Daniels scolded.

Dean's eyes jerked over to land on his teacher at the sound of his name being called, but it took him a few long seconds to realize that he thought he was cheating. Without a word, he let his eyes drop back to his own paper, not wanting to give Mr. Daniels any ammunition to use against him. Although, he usually got along okay with his teacher, he knew that the man was a no-nonsense kind of guy, who expected you to do what was expected of you.

By the time the recess bell rang, Dean's head was pounding relentlessly and his stomach was growling loudly. He wouldn't be surprised if the two things weren't connected, since he'd had very little to eat over the last few days. He was just about out the door when Mr. Daniels called out for him to remain behind. Dean hated not being out on the playground when Sam was out there, but he knew he didn't have a choice but to stay put.

Once the room was empty, Mr. Daniels walked over to where Dean was standing. He looked Dean over from head to toe and Dean found himself feeling self-conscious.

"How are you, Dean? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, sir," Dean immediately answered. He could feel his hands shaking, so he stuffed them in his pocket.

"Are you sure? Because you look awfully pale, Dean. And you look like you might be hurting or something."

Dean knew he wasn't going to get out this easily. "I just have a headache, I guess," he finally answered.

"Oh? Do you need to go to the nurse? Or do you want me to call your parents and have one of them come and pick you up?"

"I'll be fine," Dean answered quickly.

Mr. Daniels looked him over again before making up his mind. "Well, if you change your mind, just let me know, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Dean didn't wait for his teacher to dismiss him. Instead, he turned and walked out of the room as quickly as he could, anxious to check up on his brother. He could breathe a little easier when he saw the mop of hair that belonged to his brother climbing up on the jungle gym. He watched Sam like a hawk, wishing that he would get off the jungle gym and play on something a little less dangerous.

Eventually, his eyes wandered over to where some of the kids in the grade above him were playing some kind of game. Dean checked on Sam before turning his attention back to the game. He was surprised when he saw money being exchanged between the two players at the end of the game, but he rapidly realized what an opportunity was being presented to him. This was his chance to earn some money.

Dean watched the boys playing their game for the whole recess, turning back to the playground to check on Sam occasionally. It didn't take long for him to figure out the game and to figure out just how one of the kids kept winning, and he suddenly knew that he had to play.

Moving closer to the bench, he sidled his way up to the front of the group. He watched the boy play and win a few more hands before finally stepping forward.

"How do you play this game?" he asked innocently.

'It's easy," the boy answered. "Do you know how to play poker? Because it's basically just a different kind of poker."

"I kinda know how to," Dean answered, trying to sound like he didn't really know.

"Let's play a hand, then," the boy said.

"I-I can't. I don't have any money."

"Don't worry about that. You don't need money in the beginning. I'll spot you at first."

Dean leaned into the table and watched as the boy shuffled the cards like a pro.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Dean asked.

"My mom and dad both worked in a casino. They taught me."

Dean watched as the boy dealt the cards, wishing that he could be smooth like that. But, being smooth and being smart were two different things and it only took Dean about four hands to figure out what was going on. Another two hands and he was suddenly winning, much to the disgust of the kid who had been winning against everyone else.

Dean knew he should play it a little safer, so he let the kid win a few hands here and there, hoping not to raise suspicions. Eventually, though, he decided it was time to make his move. With only a few minutes left in the recess, Dean suddenly started winning every hand.

This, of course, didn't sit well with the kid, who was suddenly losing all the money he had made. He eyed Dean suspiciously.

Dean had just won the last hand when the bell rang, signally the end of the recess. Dean grabbed all the money off the table and started stuffing it into his pockets, eager to get away with his winnings. However, he didn't expect the kid to lose it. Just as he was about to turn and check on Sam, the kid stood up and parked himself right in front of him.

"I don't know how you cheated, but I want my money back," the kid said angrily. "All of it!"

"Hey, I won it fair and square. I'm not giving it back."

"Yes, you are! Now give it here before I take it from you."

Dean, whose head was still pounding significantly, laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

Dean didn't really expect what happened next. He had just turned back to check on Sam when he was violently shoved from behind. Dean flew forward, landing on his hands and knees, his mind trying to catch up with what was going on. He could feel the small pebbles on the concrete digging into the palm of his hands and into his knees, but before he could even register the pain from it, he was kicked in the side.

With a loud groan, Dean flopped over onto his back and looked up into the eyes of his attacker. He tried to pull himself up, but another vicious kick landed, this time hitting him square in the ribs.

Suddenly, Dean had had enough. Without another thought, he jumped to his feet and threw himself into the kid, knocking them both to the ground. The kid was a little bit bigger than him, but Dean was better trained in the fine art of fighting, and it didn't take long for him to gain the upper hand. Seconds later, though, there were punches being thrown left and right, by both of them. Dean was a little surprised at the number of punches the kid actually landed, not that he was anywhere near as good as Dean himself was, but still….

By this time, a large crowd of students were surrounding them and Dean wondered why it was taking so long for a teacher to show up. He really wanted someone to break the fight up because the longer it took, the more time passed that he didn't get to check up on Sam. _And that was not okay._

He had taken another punch to the gut and to the face when two adults finally showed up. Dean landed one more hard punch to the kid's nose, too, but then they were both pulled off of each other.

"What's going on here?" Mr. Daniels roared as he held onto Dean. The other teacher, Mr. Simmons, was holding onto the other kid tightly.

When neither one of the boys answered, Mr. Daniels looked over at the other teacher before turning his attention back onto Dean. "Let's go, Dean."

Dean allowed himself to be pulled back to the building, offering no resistance at all in the process. He knew he was in trouble, but the only thing he cared about was protecting the money that was currently in his possession. He hoped they didn't try to take the money away from him.

Once they were inside the school office, they were led to the principal's office and were told to sit on the bench outside. Dean tried to keep as much distance as he could between himself and the kid who was still desperately wanting his money back.

They were just about to get into it again when the door to the principal's office opened and they were called into the office. Dean stood up and walked into the office, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of the mess he was in.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Principal Nichols was no closer to getting answers than she was at the beginning. "Mr. Winchester, Mr. Clark…. As you know, we do not condone fighting of any kind in this school. I was hoping to try to understand what was going on between you two, but I can see that you're not ready to share that yet. So, I need you to go back out to the bench and sit tight while I call your parents."

Dean's heart flipped at her words, wondering what was going to happen when she couldn't get a hold of his father. He knew that Uncle Bobby and Pastor Jim would be pissed at him for getting into a fight. But, more importantly, they'd be even more pissed when they found out _why_ he had gotten into a fight.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean sat back against the bench and waited.

* * *

It was almost lunch time and Dean was pretty sure that his poor stomach was trying to eat itself. He wondered how long they would keep him in the office, waiting for someone… anyone…. to show up for him. Dean didn't know why, but it embarrassed him to think about the fact that he really didn't have anyone.

Dustin Clark's parents had shown up thirty minutes before. Dean watched as the kid's dad gave him an angry look before turning his gaze onto his own son. The mother just seemed worried about her son as she looked him over from head to toe, tsking to herself when she noticed the crookedness of his nose.

Dean stayed on the bench as the Clark family went in to discuss things with the principal. Almost ten minutes later, the door opened and they walked back out. Dean watched as Dustin followed behind his dad, his head hanging down and his face redder than normal. Once they were gone, Dean returned his thoughts to just how hungry he was. He had just about worked up enough courage to go to the front office and ask the secretary if he could go get his lunch when he heard it.

At first, it was just the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Dean didn't realize it at first, but the footsteps were familiar and if he had put a little bit of thought into it, he would have realized whose footsteps they were. But, it wasn't until he heard the booming voice coming from the front office that he realized who had come for him.

"Your office called and left a message for me. Something about my son, Dean. Is he okay? Where is he?"

Dean's stomach started doing crazy flips at the sound of his dad's voice. On one hand, he was so happy to know that his father was okay, that he was finally home. But, on the other hand, he was a little scared to see how his father was going to react to recent events. He knew that the hunt must have been messy because it had taken longer than his dad had planned. And a messy hunt was sure to put his dad in a really, really bad mood.

* * *

Author's note: Uh oh, Dean's in a little bit of trouble. Again. Sheesh, that boy just doesn't know how to stay out of trouble, does he?

I just got back from the SPNLV convention and it was awesome. Jared and Jensen were in top form for their panels and for their photo ops. Jensen sang at the Saturday night concert and it was AMAZING! All in all, a great weekend and I can't wait to go to another one.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Review replies are going to be a little late on the last chapter, because I'm still trying to recover from Las Vegas, lol.


	38. Damned If You Do

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 38

Damned If You Do

* * *

John Winchester was more than just a little bit tired. The hunt he had been on had gone way longer than he'd planned and it seemed like everywhere he turned there were complications. What should have taken him two to three days tops had taken ten days total. What should have been a relatively easy and safe hunt had been much harder and much more dangerous than expected, leaving him with an assortment of bruises and cuts. He had finally finished the hunt in the early morning hours of Monday and was more than eager to get back to his boys.

John knew that he shouldn't have left Sam and Dean alone for so long. He knew that he was risking a lot by leaving them on their own. He knew he shouldn't even be leaving them alone at all, but ten days was definitely too much. Of course, when he was so caught up in the hunt, he usually never really realized how much time was passing.

And unfortunately, he had been stuck in a place without any means of communication the whole time. He knew that Dean was probably freaked out by the fact that he hadn't called at all in the last ten days, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He would have had to come down off of the mountain he had been on and make his way to the nearest phone, which was at least twenty miles away. He had been in the middle of nowhere and communication was impossible.

Once the rugaru was killed and the body disposed of, John made his way down from the mountain and found the nearest phone. Before he made the call, though, he realized that the boys were more than likely already in school. After realizing that, John decided to just head back and surprise his boys when they returned from school.

Opening up the door to the small house, John took a few minutes to look around. For the most part, the house looked pretty good, but he realized that he would have to have a talk with Dean about cleaning up the kitchen after they used it. John always thought that there wasn't any good reason to have dirty dishes left in a sink after a meal and it looked like there were several meals worth of dishes currently in the sink _. Dean knew better._

He had just taken a long, hot shower and was getting ready to take a nap when the phone rang. Staring at the fluffy pillows on his bed, John was tempted to just let it ring. He was exhausted and knew that he needed to sleep a couple of hours, so he wouldn't be too cranky when his overly rambunctious boys came through the door. He also knew that he needed to sleep in order to deal with whatever mood Dean was going to be in when he realized he was back. A freaked-out Dean could be a handful.

By the fourth ring, though, John decided that he probably needed to answer the phone, just in case it was something important. As he listened to the person on the phone telling him that he was needed at his sons' school, John could feel his temper start to boil.

The last thing he wanted to have to deal with was one of his sons' misbehaving.

* * *

Dean tried to listen to the conversation that was going on in the front office between the nice secretary lady and his father. He also tried to discern what kind of mood his dad was in as he listened. Of course, he didn't really know why he was wasting time on trying to figure out his dad's mood. The man only had two….angry and impatient.

He couldn't really make out much of what they were saying and his mind had started to once again focus on how hungry he was, so he was surprised when the booming sound of his father's voice started moving towards him. Seconds later, he found himself face to face with a somewhat battered, extremely exhausted looking John Winchester. John immediately stepped over to Dean and Dean suddenly couldn't contain the relief he felt at seeing his dad whole.

"Dad!" He cried as he jumped up and threw himself into the man. John wasn't quite ready for the full force of Dean's body weight and Dean was surprised when he stumbled back a few steps. After a few seconds of tight squeezing from both of them, John pulled away from his son. He spent several long seconds looking the boy over from head to toe, taking in the small cuts and early stages of bruises.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" John finally asked.

"I'm okay," Dean answered quietly.

"Are you sure, Dean? It looks like there are a few places that should be hurting."

Dean moved his hand and started rubbing his side. He knew he was going to have lots of bruises from where Dustin had kicked him repeatedly, but none of them were excessively painful. He also realized that his jaw was pretty sore. "I'm okay, Dad," he finally repeated.

John didn't reply as he continued to check Dean out. Eventually, he looked back at his son. "Do you want to tell me what happened? The secretary told me that you were in a fight."

Dean had no idea where to start, so he just kept his mouth shut. Luckily- or maybe unfortunately, depending on which way you looked at it- Principal Nichols chose that time to open the door and usher them into her office. John placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and gently pushed him forward. A few seconds later, Dean found himself sitting in a chair while his dad and the principal introduced themselves to each other.

"John Winchester," John said as he shook the principal's hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mr. Winchester," Principal Nichols said. "I know I've talked to you on the phone a few times, but it's always nice to be able to meet face to face with our parents. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances, though."

"Me, too. Although I'm a little unsure of what the circumstances actually are. Your secretary said something about a fight?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, it seems that Dean got into an altercation with another student this morning. As you can see, it looks like he took a few punches."

Dean squirmed in his chair uncomfortably when both adults turned to look at him. He hated being under anyone's scrutiny in such a way. He especially hated it when his father scrutinized him so closely, because he always felt like he came up short in the man's eyes. He immediately stopped squirming, though, when he saw his father eyeing him firmly.

"I'm afraid that I really have no idea what or who instigated the fight, Mr. Winchester. Neither Dean nor the other student involved have been forthcoming about the events."

"Dean?"

"Yes, sir?" Dean knew what his father was asking, but he didn't want to talk about it. He _couldn't_ talk about it. He couldn't let his dad find out that he had been essentially gambling in order to get money to take care of Sam. He couldn't let the man find out how desperate he was to find a way to get food. And he definitely didn't want to take a chance that the principal would find out that he and Sam had been left alone for ten days. So, in his mind it was better to just stay quiet, even if that made his dad angrier.

"Miss Nichols and I would like to know what the fight was about." When Dean didn't answer, John's voice got louder. "Dean, I expect an answer, son."

Dean hunched in on himself a little, trying to figure a way out of the situation. He could feel both his dad's and the principal's eyes boring into him and he knew he had to say something. But all he could do was shrug his shoulder, knowing his dad would be furious. Sure enough, he could practically feel the anger rolling off the man.

John couldn't believe the audacity of his son. Dean knew that shrugging his shoulders and refusing to answer was not an acceptable response, but the kid just sat there and did exactly that. John could feel his frustration reaching new heights and he struggled to rein it in before he lost his cool. The irritation he was feeling was just adding fuel to the raging fire inside of him brought on by his exhaustion.

Before he could say or do anything else, though, Principal Nichols spoke again. "Well, like I said, I couldn't get anything out of Dustin, either, but that's okay. The reasoning behind the fight is irrelevant at the moment. Mr. Winchester, I'm not sure if you had the chance to read the parent handbook that was sent home with Dean on his first day, but it details our policy on fighting. We have a zero tolerance policy on any such activity, which means that I have no choice but to suspend Dean for the remainder of the week. I will have his teachers prepare any homework he'll need to complete and you can pick it up tomorrow after lunch."

"Thank you, ma'am," John said politely as he continued to frown at his son. Dean seemed to shrink even further into the chair, making John even angrier, for some reason. After discussing a few more things, John finally turned to Dean. "Let's go," he growled.

Dean quickly got to his feet and made his way to the door. John stopped him just before he could open it, though. "Dean, I think you have something to say to Miss Nichols, don't you?"

Dean turned back to the principal. "I'm sorry, Miss Nichols, for getting into a fight. It won't happen again, I promise."

John didn't miss the way she seemed to melt a little at the earnestness of Dean's words. He wanted to roll his eyes at her, wondering what it was about both of his sons that had women everywhere melting, but he didn't. Instead, he grabbed Dean by the shoulder and led him to the door.

* * *

Once they were out of the office, John started leading him to the front door. He was completely surprised when Dean suddenly stopped in his tracks, pulling away from the hand on his shoulder.

"Dean, knock it off," John growled.

"Wait, Dad! What about Sam? We can't just leave him here!"

"Sam's fine," John answered somewhat harshly.

"But, Dad, what if something tries to take him again?!"

"Dean, Sam is perfectly safe here."

"He's not!" Dean yelled. "He's not safe unless I'm here to protect him!"

John wasn't really surprised that Dean was worried about his little brother, but he was surprised by the intensity of that worry. Dean was nearly working himself up into a panic and John was immediately reminded that the whole thing with the shapeshifter really hadn't been that long ago. _Of course, the boy was still a little freaked out._

John looked down at his watch and realized that it was almost one in the afternoon. Making a decision, he led Dean back to the office and asked to check Sam out for the rest of the afternoon. He didn't miss the immediate look of relief that covered Dean's face.

* * *

The ride home was more than just a little bit uncomfortable for Dean. He knew that he was in a lot of trouble, but it was hard to stay focused on that with Sam talking a mile a minute to their dad. Dean listened as Sam told John everything that had happened since he'd left. He was only half-listening to the words coming out of Sam's mouth, so he was surprised when he suddenly heard his father calling his name.

"Dean! What's gotten into you, boy?" John asked in frustration. "Didn't you hear me calling your name?"

"Sorry," Dean answered sheepishly. "What did you say?"

"I said we're here," John answered as he motioned towards the small house.

Dean looked surprised to see that they were already home as he opened the door and stepped out. He moved to open the back door so Sammy could get out, too, and seconds later, Sam was rushing to the front door, eager to get into the house and more specifically, to the bathroom. Dean grinned at his brother's antics, but the grin quickly faded when he saw his father still looking at him.

Without a word, Dean stepped into the house, too. He had no idea what his dad wanted from him, so he just stood awkwardly in the small living room. John stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He didn't even seem to notice that the cupboards and refrigerator were almost completely empty of food. Stepping back into the living room, he sat down on the couch and let his head rest against it.

Dean continued to stand awkwardly off to the side. He had just moved to sit down when Sam returned from the bathroom.

"I'm hungry, Dean. Can I have a snack?"

Dean looked over at his father, but the man had his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the couch. Dean wondered if he was actually asleep, but before he could make up his mind on the subject, John's voiced boomed through the small room. "Dean, go fix your brother something to eat."

Without waiting for anything else to come out of his dad's mouth, Dean turned and high-tailed it into the kitchen. He had no idea what he was going to fix for Sammy's snack, though, since he was pretty sure the kid would balk at the idea of having toast yet again.

And just like he thought, Sam definitely did NOT want toast for a snack.

"I'm sick of toast, Dean,' Sam said just seconds later. "I want apples and peanut butter! And some milk!"

"We don't have any milk, Sam. Remember?"

"But, I don't want just water," Sam whined.

"Sam, all we have is water, okay? And we don't have any apples."

"But it tastes funny!" Sam whined.

Before Dean could say anything, John appeared in the doorway, obviously annoyed. "Sam, stop your whining. Dean, I told you to fix your brother something to eat."

Dean wanted to argue that he was trying to do just that, but he knew it was pointless. He also wanted to stick up for his brother, knowing that the kid had an actual reason for whining. _Poor Sam had had nothing to eat and drink but bread, peanut butter, and water for the last three days._

Looking over at Sam, he could tell that his little brother was upset. Luckily, Sam decided to keep his mouth shut, giving Dean a bit of a reprieve.

That reprieve didn't last long, though, because just seconds later John was addressing him again.

"Dean! What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you listening to me?"

Dean pulled his gaze away from Sam and back to his father, who was more than just slightly annoyed. "Yes, sir," he finally answered.

"Well, then, why aren't you doing what I told you to do?"

Without a word, Dean rushed over to the cabinet and took out the bread and peanut butter. Feeling his dad's eyes still on him, he quickly worked to spread a good amount of peanut butter on two pieces of bread. Once he was done, he threw it on a plate and stepped over to the table to place it down in front of his brother. Sam looked like he was going to say something, but after seeing the pleading look on Dean's face, he kept his mouth shut.

John, who was watching everything, stepped over to the refrigerator to pull out another beer. Dean felt himself tense up as the man opened the door, knowing he was just a few seconds from being found out. And just as he thought, his dad stood up and turned back to look at him.

"Why is the refrigerator empty, Dean?" he asked simply.

"Um….. I, uh… I…."

John threw his hands up in frustration. "What the hell is going on here? Did you forget how to speak?"

Dean shook his head and then quickly realized that he had just shaken his head at his father in response to a question. "No, sir," he finally got out.

"Well, then answer me, damn it! Why is the refrigerator empty? I left you money."

Dean knew that he could play this out two different ways. He could be honest and tell him that the money John had left them with hadn't lasted very long. Or he could lie and say that he just hadn't gone to the store yet. He had a pocketful of the money he'd gotten from Dustin that would support that story, at least. Either way, he knew his dad would either feel guilty for not leaving enough money or be furious that Dean hadn't done what he was supposed to do.

He just needed to decide which route would bring the least amount of trouble raining down on him.

* * *

Author's note: (cue sad, emotional music) Poor Dean. The kid has a decision to make. Will he take the route that will undoubtedly make his father feel guilty? Or will he take the route that will make himself look irresponsible? I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter. And also on how you all think John would react to the fighting business.

I wanted to address something that came up in a review. Some people are thinking that Sam is being whiny and selfish in this story. And I agree. But, Sam is only seven years old and I'm pretty sure that most seven year olds are more self-centered and have a tendency to be selfish. I also think that Dean goes out of his way to hide the ugly facts from his brother or at least downplay them a lot. That's just my take on Sam's behavior and I hope that makes sense to you.

One more thing…. I lol'd when I realize that I start so many of my author's notes with a ' _Poor Dean_ ' mentality. Apparently, Dean angst is my thing.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I appreciate every review I get and I do try to reply to them. I'm sorry that I can't reply to anonymous reviews.


	39. Honest

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 39

Honest

* * *

The last thing Dean ever wanted to do was to make things harder on his dad. The man was a hero in his eyes and Dean knew that he always had so much on his mind. Hunting and saving people was difficult in its own right, but to add the fact that the man also had to take care of two boys made it even more difficult.

To Dean's way of thinking, it didn't really matter if the man left them for too long with not enough money. Even though he hated being put in that position, he understood how it happened. At least, he tried to. He tried to remember that what his dad did was the most important thing in the world to him. The problem, though, was that Sam was the most important thing to Dean and when his father left for too long and didn't leave enough money for them, Dean found it really hard to take care of his little brother the way he deserved.

And Sam deserved better. He deserved to have a childhood free from fear and upset. He deserved to have a childhood free from the pangs of hunger and neglect. But Dean did the best he could with what he had. He fought against his own fear and hunger to make sure that Sam was taken care of. He ignored his own emotional, mental, and physical needs to make sure that Sam felt as secure and safe as he possibly could. He gave Sam everything he could. And he tried hard to forget that his father didn't do the same for him.

So, now here he was faced with a definite no-win situation. He could tell his dad the truth, which would definitely reveal the reason for the schoolyard fight and possibly reveal the fact that he had stolen food from the little grocery store down the street. Or, he could lie to his dad and somehow make him believe that he had just been irresponsible enough to not buy the food that he and Sam needed.

Either way, he knew the man was going to be irritated and annoyed with him. _Well, more likely the man was going to be pissed._

Dean had no idea how much time had passed since John had asked him why there wasn't any food in the refrigerator, but he could tell by the look on the man's face that it had been long enough. John's face was turning an interesting shade of red that never bode well for his sons.

Still not sure exactly which path he was going to take, Dean straightened up a little, took a deep breath, and turned to answer the question. "I, uh…. I just….," he finally said, unable to continue at the moment. He felt like he was in a car that was rolling down a mountain, heading straight for a cliff in the distance.

"Dean Winchester!" John yelled, causing both Sam and Dean to jump. "Answer me!"

"We, uh…. there wasn't enough money, Dad," he finally stammered out. The silence that followed was almost deafening and Dean didn't know what to do. His eyes had immediately fallen to the floor after the words left his mouth and he realized just how reluctant he was to see the look on his dad's face.

* * *

John stared at Dean for at least a minute as his mind tried to wrap itself around the words he'd just heard. _Not enough money? He'd left his sons behind and hadn't left enough money for them? Was that possible?_

He thought back over the last few weeks, replaying it all in his mind. They had just arrived in the small town and he was already slated to join Bill Harvelle on a hunt that very same day. He remembered quickly unpacking the small amount of food they had in the Impala and he remembered rushing around the small house, laying the salt lines down and making sure that everything was in adequate working condition. He'd gone through a small list of general housekeeping items with Dean, making sure the kid knew where the circuit breaker box and the water valves were, in case of an emergency.

The first time he'd left, he was only gone for three days. When he returned, he got the boys settled more appropriately in the small house and in the school they would be attending. When he left for the second hunt, he made sure to fill the small pantry with groceries. He was gone a total of five days that time and everything at home had gone well. He struggled to remember the events leading up to the last hunt he'd gone on. He could remember that Sam and Dean both missed a few days of school right before he left, thanks to a cold that had ravished their young bodies. He remembered thinking that he really needed to buy groceries, but he hadn't wanted to leave the boys alone while they were sick. And then he remembered leaving on the last hunt in a hurried manner.

Bobby had called him to tell him that there was a rugaru devastating a small mountain town a few hours away and the urgency in the older hunter's voice had thrown John off guard. He remembered handing Dean a handful of bills and he remembered going over the house rules one last time before he jumped into the Impala and sped off. _Had he taken the time to buy groceries in the days leading up to him leaving? Or had he left the boys with a nearly empty pantry and an unknown amount of money?_

He honestly couldn't remember, but it was obvious by the look on Dean's face and the words that he'd just stammered out, that the latter part was true. John had left his boys alone for ten whole days without the resources they needed to live. _What kind of father was he?!_

John couldn't stop the tears that filled his eyes as he looked down at both of his boys. He hadn't ever felt so guilty. Or so worthless. _What would Mary think about the way he was raising their sons? What would she think if she knew that he was such a failure as a father?_

Feeling like his legs weren't going to support him for too much longer, John sat down at the small table. He brought his eyes up to look at Dean, who was still standing off to the side. His heart nearly broke at the look on his oldest son's face.

"Sit down, Dean," he said tiredly.

Dean stumbled forward to sit on the other side of Sam, as far away from his father as he could. His eyes never quite met John's and when he sat down, he moved his chair as close to his brother as he could. John noticed the way the boy seemed unsteady on his feet and was trying to find his voice again when Dean spoke.

"I-I'm sorry, Dad. I tried to make the money last, but Sam needed some stuff for school, too, and I…. I didn't buy anything extra, I swear."

"Dean…."

"I'm sorry," Dean said again. "I did the best I could."

"Dean, listen…. I know you did, son. And it's not your fault, okay? None of this is."

Dean's eyes suddenly shot up to his father and John could tell that the boy was shocked by what he was saying. His heart nearly broke again at the hopeful look on Dean's face and he suddenly found himself wondering again what the hell he was doing with his life. _His boys deserved better. No boy deserved to feel the way Dean was feeling… guilty, hopeful, yearning for absolution._

Noticing for the first time how pale and sickly Dean was looking, John came to a sudden realization. Knowing he probably wasn't going to get a full answer from Dean, he turned his attention to Sam, who was still picking at his peanut butter sandwich.

"Hey, Sammy…Why aren't you eating your sandwich? I thought you said you were hungry."

Sam shrank down even further in the seat, not ready for the sudden attention his dad was showing him.

"I _am_ hungry, but…." Sam stopped talking when he looked over at his brother.

"But, what, Sam?" John asked.

"I'm tired of peanut butter, Daddy. It only tastes good if you have some cold milk with it. Otherwise, it just sticks to the top of my mouth."

"You're tired of peanut butter?"

"Dean said that's all we have left, so I tried to be good and eat it, Daddy." Sam's eyes were big and teary and John could tell that he thought he was in trouble.

"You're not in trouble, Sammy. I'm just trying to make sense of all of this." John looked over at Dean and quickly decided that he didn't want to have the coming conversation in front of Sam. "Hey, kiddo…. Why don't you take your sandwich in the living room and find some cartoons to watch. I'm going to talk to your brother a little more, but when we're done, we'll go get some good food to eat, okay?"

Sam looked over at Dean- who gave him a small nod- and then picked up his plate and left the room. John and Dean both watched him leave and as soon as he was out of the kitchen, John turned his attention back to Dean. "How long have you been eating just peanut butter and bread? How long have you been out of milk and juice?"

"Two days, sir."

John's heart felt heavier and heavier with each passing second. "And since I've been gone, how many times have you skipped a meal, Dean?"

A blush crept over Dean's face and he found himself not wanting to admit to not eating.

"It wasn't that often, Dad."

"Don't lie to me! I can tell you haven't been eating or drinking enough, Dean. Your skin is dry and I'm pretty sure you've lost a pound or two. And you've been stumbling around like your legs are about to give out."

"I had to make sure Sammy had enough to eat," Dean said softly. "He was hungry."

"And you weren't?"

"He's just a kid, Dad. I didn't want him to worry about something like that."

John sighed at the 'just a kid' remark. He'd heard that phrase from Dean on more than one occasion and it always made him unbelievably sad.

"Why didn't you call Bobby or Pastor Jim? They would have helped you and Sammy until I got back."

Dean blushed again. "I could handle it, Dad."

"Could you? Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look like it was being handled. You're weak. And hungry. And I'm going to take a wild guess and say that the incident at school was somehow related to all of this. Am I right?"

Dean figured his face might as well stay permanently red at this point. He was really hoping to skate out of this situation unscathed, but his dad was way too smart for that.

"Dean?" John nudged.

"Yes, sir. I, uh….won some money in a game, but the kid got mad and wanted it back. I wouldn't give it to him, so we, uh…. well, you know."

"You were gambling on the playground?" John asked in disbelief.

"He was cheating other kids out of their money, but I figured it out. I beat him fair and square, Dad. The money was mine."

"Dean, how many times have I had to tell you to not draw attention to yourself? Don't you think gambling on the playground and getting into a fist fight is going to draw attention to you? What if I hadn't answered the phone when the school called? Wouldn't that be drawing attention to us, too?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dean, you know how I feel about fighting."

"But he started it, Dad. He pushed me down and started kicking me. It was basically self-defense and you said it was okay for me to defend myself or Sammy."

"You shouldn't have put yourself in a situation like that in the first place, son."

"I had to. I had to come up with some way to get food for us, Dad. You're always telling me that sometimes you have to be creative when problem-solving. Sometimes you have to think outside the box, remember? That's what I was doing and it worked until Dustin acted like a son of a bitch." Dean's eyes widened when he realized the words that had slipped out of his mouth.

"Watch your language," John scolded.

"Sorry."

John studied his son for several long seconds. "You've always been really good at thinking creatively," he finally said. He didn't miss the way Dean blushed yet again. "Maybe next time you can think through the consequences a little better. And maybe that will help you avoid creating more trouble for yourself."

John really didn't know how to handle the situation they were in. The immense guilt he felt at putting his boys through it all was making him want to just sweep everything under the rug and pretend like nothing had happened. But he knew he couldn't. He needed to make sure that Dean understood the bad choices he had made. He also needed to make sure that he himself took responsibility for his part in it. He definitely wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"What do you say we go get something to eat before we continue this conversation, Dean? I'm sure both you and Sammy are hungry and I could use a good meal, too. There's a little diner a few miles down the road that advertises homemade pies. Sound good?"

Dean's stomach chose that exact moment to rumble loudly. "Sounds great, Dad," he answered as he rubbed his tummy. He was never one to turn down a piece of pie.

* * *

Dinner was great. The little diner had good, old-fashioned home-cooking that all three Winchesters enjoyed. Sam ordered pot roast, vegetables, and potatoes and nearly ate the whole plate. Dean ordered fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. It also came with green peas, but he furtively slipped those onto his brother's plate when his father wasn't looking. John didn't miss the fact that Dean only ate about half of his food before stopping.

They sat in the diner longer than usual, waiting for Dean to be ready for his piece of pie. John and Dean listened as Sam told them a story about the new class hamster and how it was so lazy and never seemed to do anything. Dean talked a little about the new gym teacher and how he was impressed with how many pushups Dean could do. Sam told their dad about a movie they had watched a few nights before, leading John to scold Dean for letting his little brother watch such a violent movie.

All in all, their time in the diner was good for the little family. Eventually, Dean felt like he could eat some more, so they finally ordered dessert. Sam had a milkshake, while John and Dean both ordered a piece of apple pie with ice cream. John was a little surprised when Dean couldn't finish his pie, either.

When it was finally time to head back to the house, John stood up to pay the bill while Dean took Sam to the bathroom. While he was paying, he made sure to order a slice of pie to go, knowing that eventually Dean's appetite would be back in full force.

* * *

Once they were back at the house, John told Sam and Dean to get their baths done and over with while he went to pick up some groceries. By the time he returned, Sam was sitting on the floor with a book and notebook spread out in front of him while Dean was sitting on the couch, watching television.

"Working on some homework, Sam?" he asked as he looked down to see what the boy was working on.

"Yep. Miss Burke told us to read this story and then draw a picture of what we read. She said I was a really good drawer and that she couldn't wait to see my picture."

"What about you, Dean? Shouldn't be doing some of your homework, too?"

Dean hesitated just enough to annoy his dad. "I have the whole rest of the week to do it, remember?" Once the words left his mouth, he wondered at the stupidity of reminding his dad that he was suspended from school.

John looked like he was going to argue, but he chose not to. He knew that he needed to finish the conversation he'd started with Dean and he really didn't want to put it off any longer. And the kid was right. He did have the rest of the week to get his work done and he had someone around to make sure he did.

An hour and a half later, Sam was yawning loudly and it was obvious that he was barely keeping his eyes open. John sent him into the bedroom he shared with Dean and hoped that the kid would fall asleep quickly. After a quick story, John looked down to find Sam sound asleep. Dean had been lingering over by the window, knowing that as soon as Sam was asleep it would be time for him to face the music.

He still wasn't sure exactly where he stood on everything that had happened. And he had no idea how mad his dad really was. The man was calmer than Dean thought he would be and he took that as a good sign.

He was still staring out the window when he heard his dad's voice.

"Let's go, son. We need to talk."

* * *

Author's note: Whoohoo! Another chapter already. I've been completely in the writing zone this past week, which is an amazing feeling. Fanfiction, Facebook posts, original stuff….. it's all just flowing at the moment.

Anyway, I'm hoping this chapter shows a little bit of a softer side of John. Of course, he's still a hard-ass, but at least he's trying to understand what happened and even take some responsibility for it.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Oh, and if you're interested, I also posted a one-shot called "Perfect Landing" where Dean is remembering the mess that was his sixteenth birthday and how his father taught him to drive. I'd love to hear your thoughts on that one, too.


	40. State of Grace

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 40

State of Grace

* * *

Dean followed his dad out of the bedroom and back into the small living room, trying to keep his chin and shoulders up the whole way. He was usually pretty good at deciphering his dad's moods, but this time he had no idea what to expect. What was throwing him off the most was the fact that the man had actually taken some responsibility in the whole debacle. In his experience, that rarely happened, and he had no idea how to process it.

Once they were back in the living room, John ordered him to sit down on the couch. Dean immediately sat down, keeping his eyes focused on a hole in his pajamas the whole time. John paced the small room for several minutes, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Finally, he stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the beat up coffee table.

John ran his hand over his face and through his hair before turning his full attention onto his son. "I'm sorry, Dean," he finally said.

Dean's head jerked up and his eyes quickly searched his father's face, obviously taken aback by the man's words. He didn't get a chance to reply, though, because John continued.

"I shouldn't have ever allowed something like this to happen. I should have made sure that you had enough food and enough money to tide you over for however long I was gone."

A part of Dean wanted to argue that he thought his dad shouldn't have left them alone in the first place, but he knew that was a selfish thought. He knew that his dad did important work and that he couldn't really do his job if he had two kids tagging along.

"It's okay, Dad," Dean said quietly.

"No, it's not. It's anything but okay, Dean. Look at you. You're pale and weak. And I'm pretty sure those pajamas weren't that loose on you the last time you wore them. I know you haven't been eating much and that's my fault."

"I ate…."

"Dean…"

"I did, Dad."

"Okay, well you obviously didn't eat enough."

"I had to make sure Sam had enough food, Dad. He was hungry."

"And you weren't?"

"Well, yeah…. But he's just a kid. I didn't want him to worry about it."

John's heart broke just a little at Dean's repeated explanation of Sam being "just a kid." He knew that the boy took his job as Sam's protector seriously and he knew that he himself was to blame for just how far the kid took it, but he figured it was too late to change that now. Watching out for Sammy was too ingrained into Dean's psyche after all this time. Being Sam's protector was who he was.

John studied his son's pale face for several long seconds, wondering how he was going to get the kid to understand what he was saying. "Dean, why didn't you call Bobby or Pastor Jim?"

"I was going to call when I got home from school today if you weren't back yet," Dean admitted.

"But why did you wait so long? Why didn't you call sooner?"

Dean didn't really want to explain it all to his dad. He knew the man wouldn't understand the 'whole not wanting to uproot again' thing at all. John didn't see the big deal with never settling down in any one place. It wasn't important to him. And to be honest, it wasn't really all that important to Dean, either. At least, in the grand scheme of things. Dean didn't really care where they were as long as they were together.

Of course, it would be nice to have a house with bedrooms they could make their own. And it would be nice to be able to make friends like normal kids. Maybe it would even be nice to stay somewhere long enough that they could join a baseball team or a Boy Scout group. Dean knew that Sam would like that.

But all in all, the only thing that mattered was that they were together.

Dean didn't want his dad to know how much he needed his approval, either. He already felt like he couldn't ever do anything right in the man's eyes, so that was the main reason he didn't want to call Bobby or Pastor Jim for help. Dean wanted to be able to take care of things on his own. To take care of Sammy on his own.

When it was obvious that his dad was getting tired of waiting for an answer, Dean finally spoke. "I-I thought I could handle it, I guess," he said quietly. "And I guess I kept thinking that you'd call or show up and I just kept giving it more time. I knew you'd be back, Dad."

"Dean, the reason I made sure you knew Pastor Jim's and Bobby's phone numbers was because of this. There's always a chance I might not make it back when I say I'm going to, so we need a back-up plan. But back-up plans only work if you use them."

"I know."

"Then there's really no excuse, son. You had your orders and you failed to follow them."

"That's not fair, Dad. I was going to call today if you weren't back, so…."

"You shouldn't have waited that long. I have to be able to trust you to make better decisions, son."

"I'm sorry," Dean answered dejectedly, feeling once again like he couldn't ever do anything right.

"And because you thought you could handle everything, you created more trouble for yourself. You wouldn't have ever gotten into that fight at school if you'd handled the situation before it got so out of hand."

Dean didn't know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. He knew that his dad didn't tolerate fighting unless it was in self-defense and even though he technically _was_ only defending himself, he was pretty sure the man wouldn't see it that way.

"You need to think about these things, Dean. You need to learn to think ahead, figure out what the consequences are likely to be for the choices you make. You always need to be thinking at least two to three steps ahead at all times."

Dean moved his gaze up to his dad. He was a little surprised by the look on his dad's face.

"Is there anything else you need to tell me? Anything else that happened?"

Dean wondered if there was any way his dad knew about the stolen peanut butter and soup. _Could he have found out somehow? Should he admit to it, just in case he already knew? Or should he keep his mouth shut and hope that the man didn't know anything?_

Dean knew that if he didn't say anything and his dad found out, he'd be in more trouble than if he just outright confessed to it. He'd definitely be in a lot of trouble either way, but his dad would be angrier if he lied.

"Dean?"

Dean felt his eyes fill with tears and the shame of what he did was making his stomach hurt. He truly felt bad for stealing from the nice man that owned the little store. _The man had always been so nice to him the times he'd been there and he had repaid him by stealing from him._

"I-I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have done it."

"Done what?"

Dean's eyes were once again focused on the hole in his pajamas and he couldn't bring himself to tell his dad what he'd done.

"Dean, look at me." He waited for Dean to look up at him before continuing. "What did you do, son?"

"Sammy was hungry, Dad."

"Dean…."

"I went to the store down the street and I…" Dean couldn't bring himself to continue, knowing that once he said it out loud, his dad would know he was a thief.

John's stomach was turning, too, at the realization that Dean had stolen something from the little store. If he were being honest with himself, he'd realize that the things he'd done through the years were probably sending mixed messages to his boys. Credit cards in fake names, pool hall hustling, sneaking food out of an all-you-can-eat buffet, dining and dashing….. So many things that were, in essence, stealing.

"What did you take from the store?"

"A jar of peanut butter and some soup," Dean answered so quietly that John just barely heard him. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said again.

John stood up and moved away from his son. He couldn't bear to look at him at the moment, knowing that the boy had been driven to steal because of him. Of course, this wouldn't have happened, either, if the boy had followed the plan and called for help. But, John couldn't help but wonder if maybe he hadn't made the back-up plan clear enough. _Maybe he hadn't given the boy strict enough instructions or parameters on when to call for help. Maybe he had failed again as a father._

Eventually, he turned back to Dean. He could tell that the boy was embarrassed and ashamed of what he had done. He could also tell that Dean was scared of how he was going to react. And the truth of the matter was that John had no idea how he should react to all of this. He knew the majority of the blame was on him, but he also knew that Dean had screwed up, too. And Dean expected to be punished when he screwed up.

The problem was that John didn't really want to punish his son. His own guilt over the way everything had played out made him want to just forget that it had ever happened in the first place. _But, what message would he be sending if he did that?_

John walked back over to his son, this time sitting down on the couch next to him. Dean scooted over a little, obviously wanting to put a little bit of distance between them. John stared down at his hands before looking over to his son.

"Quite a mess we have here, huh?" he finally asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean nearly whispered.

"What do you think we should do about it?" John asked.

Dean looked up in confusion. "What?"

"Well, I think both of us have made some pretty big mistakes here, don't you?"

Dean nodded his head.

"So, what do you think we should do?"

"I don't know, Dad."

"I think we need to come up with a better plan in case this happens again, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. If this ever happens again- and I'm sure it will- I expect you to call either Bobby or Pastor Jim by the third day, okay? If I've missed my check-in by three days, you call."

"Okay."

"And no more gambling or hustling on school grounds. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"And no more stealing, Dean. It's too dangerous. If you'd been caught, the man probably would have called the cops and you know what that means. We need to fly under the radar, son. We can't give anyone any reason to get CPS involved."

"Yes, sir."

Dean wanted to argue that it wouldn't even be an issue if they just weren't left alone in the first place, but he didn't. He'd never say that to his dad, no matter how true it was.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked after a long silence.

"Do you think you deserve to be?" John asked.

"I guess…."

John ran his hand over his face and through his hair again, still not completely sure how to handle the situation. He wanted to make sure that Dean understood his part in all of this, knowing that the boy tended to take more blame on himself than he should. "What part of this do you think you should be in trouble for?" he finally asked.

"For the stealing. And for getting into a fight."

"Okay, well…. you've already been suspended from school for fighting, so I guess grounding you during that time would be appropriate, too. No television, no playing outside. You're in your room except for meal times and bathroom breaks, okay?"

"Okay."

"And bedtime is an hour earlier."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you think would be appropriate punishment for the stealing?"

"I don't know," Dean said, shrugging his shoulders despite knowing how much his dad hated it. He figured the man was probably going to spank him, but there was no way he was going to suggest that.

"Well, I do. Tomorrow, you and I are going to go to the store and you're going to apologize to the store owner. You're also going to offer to repay the man."

"But I don't have any money," Dean whined. The last thing he wanted to do was to face the man and admit to stealing from him.

"I'll repay him and you can repay me by doing extra chores and extra training," John said.

"Do I really have to apologize? What if he calls the cops, Dad? What if they arrest me?"

"They're not going to arrest you, Dean. I won't let that happen."

"Please don't make me, Dad," Dean pleaded. "You can punish me some other way! Please?"

"That's enough, Dean. We're going tomorrow and you're going to apologize. That's it."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then. Get yourself to bed. It's late."

Dean scrambled up off the couch, anxious to get away before his dad decided on a more physical form of punishment. He was halfway out of the room when John's voice stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Dean. For putting you in this situation."

Dean could count on one hand the number of times he had heard his dad apologize to him or to anyone else and it caught him off guard to hear him do it again. _Twice in one day had to be a record._

"It's okay, Dad."

"No, it's not. And it won't happen again, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight, Dad."

Without another word, Dean turned and went to bed.

* * *

Dean was hoping that he could enjoy some of his time off by sleeping in, but John had other ideas. When he woke Sam up for school, he made Dean get up, too. And Dean was tired. He hadn't slept well during the night, since he was really worried about what was going to happen when the store owner learned that he had stolen from him.

By the time they left the house to take Sam to school, John had already lost his cool twice with the boys. Sam was upset because John forgot to buy his favorite cereal when he bought groceries and his whining was getting on John's last nerve. And Dean was dawdling so much that they were running late. Which only made Sam whine even more.

"Come on, Dean! I don't wanna be late! It's my turn to lead the Pledge of Allegiance," Sam whined. "Dad, make Dean hurry!"

John and Sam were waiting at the door for Dean, who was sitting on the couch, putting on his shoes. John knew that the kid was stalling. "Let's go, Dean. Quit dawdling. And stop whining, Sam. I've heard enough of it this morning."

"I'm not whining!" Sam whined.

"And I'm not dawdling," Dean said. "I don't even know what that means!"

"It means that if you don't come on, I'm going to light a fire in your backside to get you moving a little faster," John growled.

Dean knew he couldn't push his dad too much more, so he finished tying his shoes and stood up. Seconds later, they were out the door and on their way to school. Once they got there, Sam was surprised when Dean didn't get out of the car.

"Come on, Dean," he said as he grabbed his backpack.

"I'm not coming, Sam."

"What? Why not?"

"I got suspended," Dean admitted. "I can't go to school for the rest of the week."

"You got kicked out of school?" Sam asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"I didn't get kicked out of school, Sam. I just got suspended for a few days."

"Why?"

"Sam, we can talk about this later," John said as he looked down at his watch. "You're already late, so go on."

Sam said a quick goodbye to John and Dean and then ran into the building. John and Dean watched him until the doors closed behind him.

"Maybe Sam should stay home this week, too, Dad," Dean said.

"He'll be fine, Dean."

Dean wasn't convinced, but he knew he wasn't going to change his dad's mind. Instead, he settled himself back into the seat and willed himself to calm down. He knew that he would be a nervous wreck until school was out and Sam was back with them, safe and sound.

John turned the car around and Dean instantly started praying that he would just take them back home. He knew the man wouldn't forget about stopping at the little store, but he couldn't keep himself from hoping that he might.

A few minutes later, John pulled the Impala up to the front of the store and got out. Dean knew better than to make the man wait on him, so he quickly opened his door and pulled himself out to follow. His legs were shaking and he felt like he might throw up what little breakfast he'd been able to eat that morning, but he followed his dad into the store.

Luckily, it was early enough that the store was empty. Dean wasn't surprised to see the same man behind the counter, since he was the only person he'd ever seen working there. John led him right up to the counter and Dean made himself look up at the man.

"Hi, can I help you with something?" the man asked as he smiled at both John and Dean.

"John Winchester," John said as he held his hand out for the man to shake. The man immediately took his hand and shook it.

"Amos Wheaton," he replied. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester."

"Are you the owner of this store?" John asked.

"Yes, sir. It's been in my family for over fifty years, believe it or not."

"Mr. Wheaton, this is my son, Dean."

"Dean! How are you? How did that French Toast breakfast turn out for you?"

It took Dean a few seconds to figure out what the man was talking about and when he did, he felt even more ashamed of what he'd done. John looked between his son and the store owner, wondering what the "French Toast" thing was all about. Eventually, when he realized that Dean wasn't going to answer the man, he butted in. "Dean has something he needs to tell you, Mr. Wheaton."

"Oh, okay…. What's that?"

Dean couldn't stop the blush that was spreading across his face and he suddenly hated his dad for making him tell the man what he did. He knew there was no way out of it, though, so he just blurted it out.

"I stole something from you and I'm really, really sorry."

"Excuse me?"

Dean looked up at his dad, begging him to help him, but John just nudged him on. Dean moved his eyes back to Mr. Wheaton. "On Saturday…. I stole some stuff when I was in here."

Mr. Wheaton looked between the two Winchesters, before settling his gaze onto Dean. "Okay… And what did you steal?"

"Peanut butter. And some soup."

Mr. Wheaton laughed, surprising both John and Dean. "Peanut butter and soup? Why in the world would you steal that?!"

John looked down at Dean, giving him a look that said "let me handle this." He knew that a kid stealing peanut butter and soup was a little suspicious, so he had to come up with a halfway plausible story.

"Dean has a thing for peanut butter. He eats it all the time, so I try to limit him. When he finished off a jar in two days, I told him he couldn't have any more for a while. Apparently, he took it upon himself to get his own."

"And the soup?"

"He took that for his little brother."

Mr. Wheaton looked down at Dean and smiled. "You must really like peanut butter."

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

"Well, thank you for telling me," the man said.

John nudged Dean again and Dean knew what was expected of him. "I'm really, really sorry, sir, and I promise it'll never happen again."

John pulled out his wallet. "If you can tell me how much I owe you, I'll gladly repay you. And I can promise you that my boy here has learned his lesson. He won't be stealing anything ever again."

Mr. Wheaton quickly added up the price of the peanut butter and the soup and took the money from John. "I imagine your daddy was pretty upset with you, Dean."

"Yes, sir. I'm grounded and I have to do extra chores to pay him back."

"I hope you have indeed learned your lesson. Stealing is a bad habit to get into."

"I did. I promise! And I'm really sorry, Mr. Wheaton."

"Apology accepted, Dean. You made a mistake and you've apologized. You're forgiven."

"Thank you, sir."

John and Mr. Wheaton talked for a few minutes longer, while Dean shifted uncomfortably next to his dad the whole time. He believed that the man truly did forgive him, but being there and being reminded of what he'd done, made Dean feel more and more ashamed. Eventually, they were done talking and Dean was relieved when his father finally turned to leave.

* * *

John stayed home for almost two full weeks. Dean fulfilled his grounding and extra chores and training without any issues and the boys stayed out of trouble, for the most part. Of course, John found himself refereeing a few arguments here and there, but overall things were going along smoothly.

John didn't necessarily want to leave the boys again, but a call from Bobby requesting his help had him amped up again. He never really could turn down a good hunt.

The day before he left, he sat Dean down and went over the rules again. He made sure that Dean had no questions at all about the back-up plan and when to initiate it. He made sure that Dean knew exactly what to do. And he made sure that he stocked up the panty and refrigerator and left enough emergency money, just in case.

Dean didn't want his dad to leave again, but he was determined to show him that he could handle things at home. He knew what was expected of him and he was prepared to watch out for Sammy. He wasn't going to let his father down again.

John left on a Thursday morning and everything was going good for the Winchester boys. It wasn't until the third night that things fell apart. And fell apart in a catastrophic way.

* * *

Author's note: There you go. What do you all think of the way John handled everything? And what do you think is happening to poor Sam and Dean now. Oh, the torture I put those poor boys through.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You all are so awesome and amazing.


	41. Paralyzed

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 41

Paralyzed

* * *

John made sure that he called to check on the boys every night while he was gone. He knew that Dean was still a little nervous about being left alone again, so he was determined to make sure the boy felt more comfortable.

When he called Thursday night, Dean was quick to tell him how everything was okay and how Sam had gotten Star Student of the Month at school. It wasn't often that they stayed at a school long enough for something like that to happen so both boys were excited. And John couldn't help but feel equal parts proud father at his son's accomplishment and pathetic father for not being there to witness it.

When he called on Friday, he could tell immediately that something was wrong. Dean was usually pretty forthcoming with information, but he seemed to be avoiding John's questions of how their day went, sticking to basic, casual answers like "we're fine" and "everything's okay." By the third time he'd heard his son say "we're fine, Dad," John just about lost it.

"Dean, if I hear you say "we're fine" one more time, we're gonna have a problem, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Now tell me how your day was. Where's Sammy?"

"He's watching TV," Dean answered.

"Let me talk to him."

John could hear Dean yelling for his brother and seconds later, Sam's voice echoed in his ear.

"Hi, Daddy," Sam said loudly.

"Hey, Sam. What are you doing?"

"I'm watching Quantum Leap. Dean let me pick what to watch."

"That was nice of him," John said with a smile. He knew Dean didn't really like the show, but sometimes it was just easier to give in to Sam.

"Yeah, he said if I didn't tell you what happened in school, I could…"

John wanted to laugh at Sam's sudden silence when he realized what he'd said, but he didn't. His sudden desire to hear what had happened at school won out over his desire to laugh at his son's innocence. He could hear Dean in the background, telling Sam to shut up.

"Sam, put your brother back on the phone, okay? And I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Okay, Daddy. Dean, Daddy wants to talk to you."

John listened as Dean took the phone from his brother and told him to go back into the living room. Seconds later, he was back on the phone.

"What happened in school, Dean?" John asked immediately, not wanting to waste any more time.

Dean hesitated, but not for too long, knowing that his dad wasn't playing around. "I got in a fight," he answered quietly.

"You did what?" John thundered, causing Dean to move the phone away from his ear.

"It wasn't my fault, Dad. I swear. Dustin was still mad about me winning his money and about getting in trouble for that last fight. He snuck up on me and sucker-punched me!"

Part of John wanted to question Dean on how he could let someone sneak up on him like that, but the other part just wanted to find out more about the fight. "Okay, so you punched him back?"

"Yes, sir. It was self-defense, Dad. And you said it was okay to fight in that case, remember?"

"I did. So, how much trouble did you get in for fighting? Are you suspended again?"

"No. Miss Nichols said that the playground monitor told her that I was only trying to protect myself, so I didn't get in trouble for that."

"Well, then what did you get in trouble for?" John asked, already afraid of what he was going to hear.

"I didn't mean to do it, Dad. It just sorta happened and I swear it won't happen again. I swear."

"What happened, Dean?" John asked in a tired voice. He couldn't help but feel that if it wasn't one thing it was another with his oldest son. "What did you get in trouble for, then?"

"I yelled at the playground monitor when she tried to pull us apart and I called her…." Dean couldn't bring himself to continue.

"You called her what, Dean?" John asked, knowing that he wasn't going to like what he heard.

"Dad…."

"What did you call her, Dean?" John asked again, his patience obviously growing thinner.

"I don't want to say it," Dean answered quietly.

"Well, if you could say it to her, then you can say it to me, Dean. What did you call her?"

Dean was quiet for so long that John actually wondered if they'd been disconnected. It wasn't until he heard Dean sigh that he knew the connection was still good. "Dean…"

"I called her a…. um… a bitch."

"Is that all?"

"Um…. well…."

"Dean, it's almost nine o'clock at night. You boys need to be getting in bed and I have some more research to do, so tell me what else happened. Right now."

"I used _that_ word…."

" _That word_ …. What does that mean? What word are you talking about?"

"The F-word," Dean replied miserably.

John was quiet for several long seconds, making Dean squirm uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Dad. It just kinda slipped out. She was pulling on my arm to try to get us apart and it hurt. I guess I kinda exploded or something."

"How much trouble are you in at school?"

"I have lunch time detention for two weeks and I can't go on the field trip next week. And Miss Nichols wants to meet with you," Dean said miserably.

"Did they try to call me? I didn't get any messages."

"I told them you were out of town and that Uncle Bobby was staying with us. Miss Nichols talked to him."

"Why didn't he call me?"

"He said I had to tell you what I did and if I didn't, he was going to call you tomorrow."

"Okay. You and I will be having a discussion about this when I get back, Dean. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered, knowing just what kind of a _discussion_ they'd be having.

"Right now I want you and Sam to get into bed. I should be done with this hunt sometime tomorrow and I'll call you when I'm ready to leave. Should be home no later than midnight tomorrow night. Make sure you both get your chores and homework done tomorrow."

After a quick goodnight, John hung up the phone. He couldn't keep from feeling frustrated with his son for getting into trouble again and wondered if maybe it was time to move on from the small town. The last thing he needed was for Miss Nichols or someone else at the school to get curious about his family and stick their nose into his business.

* * *

Dean woke up the next morning to find Sam sitting at the table, munching on an apple. His nose was buried in a book, so he didn't hear Dean come into the room.

"Mornin', Sammy," Dean said as he stepped over to the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice. "How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know. Long enough to watch two episodes of Scooby Doo."

Dean was secretly mad that he'd missed Scooby Doo, but he was happy to be able to sleep in, too. Whenever their dad was home, they were up by seven a.m., so sleeping in was a luxury.

"Want some breakfast, Sam?"

"I want pancakes!" Sam said excitedly. "With blueberries!"

"We don't have any blueberries. You'll just have to have syrup or peanut butter."

Dean was glad when Sam didn't seem too upset by the fact that he couldn't have blueberries. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with an irritable little brother.

"Can we go to the park today, Dean? Please?"

"I don't think so, Sammy. Dad's coming home tonight and he said we had to have all of our chores and homework done."

"But mine's already done! And I can get my chores done really fast, too. Please, Dean?"

Dean had a feeling that he should stick to his guns and say no to his brother, but he couldn't. It had been a long week at school and he knew that they both could use a bit of a break. _A few hours at the park would be good for them._

After breakfast, Dean quickly cleaned up the kitchen and sent Sam to straighten up the living room. He knew Sam would be distracted by the television, but there wasn't a lot to do in the small room. Dean had picked up before he went to bed the night before, so it was already pretty clean.

Once they were both done with their respective rooms, Dean sent Sam to clean up their bedroom, while he tackled the bathroom. Once that was done, Sam settled in to watch television while Dean sat at the table and pulled out his homework.

Almost two hours later, Dean closed up his math book and put everything back in his backpack. He had decided to pack a lunch for them to take to the park, so he did that while Sam went and got dressed. Once Dean was dressed, too, they grabbed their stuff and headed out the door.

John hadn't specifically said they had to stay inside the house, so Dean figured the park would be okay since it was only a block away. They had been there a few times before and Dean knew that his brother loved to climb on the jungle gym, so he made his way over to a picnic table close by. Sam was already headed for the jungle gym.

Dean liked the jungle gym, too, so they spent a long time playing on it. They chased each other around the structure and played King of the Hill, over and over again. Dean made sure to let Sam win occasionally, not wanting to ruin the kid's day.

Eventually, they took a break to eat their lunch. While they were eating, a family with two small children showed up, followed by another family with three kids that were close to their age. Sam knew one of the kids from school, so he quickly ran off to play with him. Dean finished eating his sandwich, keeping an eye on his little brother the whole time.

Once he was done, Dean stepped back onto the playground and over to where his brother and the other kids were playing a game of tag. The two small children were standing close by, watching the bigger kids play and obviously wanting to join in. Dean sent a quick look to Sam- cueing him into the fact that they wanted to play- and seconds later they had joined the game, too.

The kids all ran around the playground wildly while Dean chased them. He let himself catch up to them, but would pretend to trip just as he was reaching out to grab them. The park was filled with the screams and laughter of the children and the parents watched as the game went on.

Eventually, though, they all had to take a break. Dean and Sam sat down under a shady tree and drank the rest of the juice Dean had packed. The mother of the small children brought over a plate of homemade cookies, thanking Dean and Sam for playing with her children. The boys quickly scarfed the cookies down.

Dean looked at his watch and realized that they needed to get home. He was just about to tell Sam to start packing up their stuff when it happened. One second, he was pulling himself up to his feet and the next, he was diving to the ground, throwing his body over Sam's when he heard the sound of bullets exploding around them.

Suddenly, the park was filled with screams and chaos. Dean lifted his head up and looked around, making sure that Sam was still pinned underneath him. He could hear his brother crying, but he didn't have the time to try to comfort him. _He had to figure out what to do._

Within a minute of first hearing the gunshots, an eerie silence filled the air. Dean noticed the family with the two small children were hiding over by the bathrooms and the other family was sheltered together underneath the slide. He watched as the fathers' arms were stretched out protectively around their families and the mothers were trying to calm down the crying kids. Dean felt like crying himself and wished with everything he had that his dad was there.

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam cried.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean answered, wishing that he believed that himself.

In the distance, he could hear the sounds of sirens and he hoped that they were headed to the park. As much as he always knew to steer clear of the police whenever possible, their presence would be comforting at the moment.

Still looking around, Dean noticed that the father of the two small children was making his way over to where they were. He moved himself off of his brother, but kept him pulled closely to his side.

"Hey, boys…. Are you two okay?" the man asked as he looked them over from head to toe.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered quietly.

"Are you sure? You're not hurt anywhere?"

"No, sir. We're okay."

The man took his eyes off of them long enough to look around the park. Seconds later, his eyes were back on Dean. "Why don't you two come and join us over there. My wife called 911 and the cops are on their way. In the meantime, we can get some more of those cookies. How does that sound?"

Neither one of them felt like eating any more cookies, but Dean agreed to go with the man. Standing up, he picked Sam up and followed the man over to the restrooms. As soon as they made it, Dean bent over and placed Sam back on the ground. Immediately, the mother reached over and pulled him to her, looking him over from top to bottom. Once she was convinced that Sam was okay, she turned her attention to Dean.

"Thank God, you're okay," she said breathlessly.

Sam snuggled into her, sharing her arm space with her own two children. Dean stayed as close to his brother as he could, his eyes rarely leaving the small form. It wasn't too much longer before the park was filled with the sights and sounds of several different police cars and ambulances.

Suddenly, Dean found himself getting nervous. He knew that eventually someone was going to ask him where his parents were and he really didn't have a good answer for them. He knew that they would probably be pretty suspicious to hear that their father was at least one state away at the moment. Making a command decision, Dean suddenly grabbed Sam's arm.

"Come on, Sam. We need to get home," he said as he pulled Sam to his feet.

"Wait! You can't leave," the man said as he reached out and grabbed Dean's arm. "We don't know where the gunman is. You boys need to stay right here."

Dean struggled against the hold the man had on his arm, trying desperately to pull his arm out of the man's grip. He couldn't do it, though.

"Let go of me!" Dean yelled as he continued to struggle. Eventually, he kicked his leg out, making contact with the man's knee. The man cried out and let go of Dean's arm. Dean immediately took advantage of the situation and reached out for his brother, but the man was too fast. Before he'd even reached Sam, Dean suddenly found himself back in the man's grip.

"Hey, it's okay," the man said, obviously trying to calm Dean down. "It's okay."

"Please," Dean pleaded. "We need to go home."

"We'll make sure you get home, kid," the man answered. "Your parents will need to be told what happened."

Suddenly, Dean couldn't control the tears that had been threatening to fall. They flooded down his face as he realized the precariousness of their situation. The man pulled Dean closer to him, putting an arm around Dean's small shoulders. Dean didn't try to get away, knowing that it was pointless.

They stayed like that for several minutes while the police made their way through the park. Once they made it to the bathrooms, the man quickly informed them of what had happened and that Sam and Dean were at the park by themselves. The police officer that was questioning them turned to Dean and asked him where his parents were.

Dean explained that his dad was working and the man immediately questioned him about his mother. Everyone grew quiet when Dean told them that their mother was dead. He could feel them all looking at him pitifully and he hated it. He also hated that Sam started crying again.

After the park was cleared and no sign of the gunman was found, the police officer told the two families that they could go. The man made sure that Sam and Dean would be taken care of and then he and his family told the boys goodbye.

The police officer, Officer Bartlett, led Sam and Dean over to his car and settled them in the back seat. Sam was trying to quit crying, but being put in the back seat of a police car only made him cry harder. He had been raised to fear the police, knowing that they could tear his little family apart even if he didn't really understand how that could happen.

Dean pulled Sam tightly into his side for the short ride to the police station. Once they arrived, they got out of the car and followed Officer Bartlett into the station. Dean was feeling completely overwhelmed by everything, but he tried hard to keep it all together for his brother's sake.

Officer Bartlett settled them down in a small room, offering them a couple cans of soda. They both accepted the soda, but Sam was the only one that drank it. Dean was feeling too nervous and too nauseous to even try to drink his, unfortunately.

Dean was able to give the officer both Bobby and Pastor Jim's numbers, but neither of them answered the phone call. It was at that moment that Dean knew they were really, truly in trouble.

* * *

Bobby Singer walked through his front door and threw his hat up on the mantle. He had just returned from a hunt for a vetala that had gone all shades of sideways. He and Caleb knew that vetala usually hunted in pairs, so they had been prepared for that. What they weren't prepared for was the fact that there were two pairs of vetala, not just one.

Bobby had spent the better part of the afternoon paralyzed by the venom from a vetala bite. He spent the rest of the afternoon recovering from the bite and his wounded ego. Caleb had been the one to take out all four of the vetala and Bobby knew he wouldn't ever live that down.

Entering his library, the first thing he noticed was the flashing red light on his home phone. He had arranged for Rufus to take over the different phones the hunters used in their investigations, but he hadn't forwarded his calls from his own phone. As he listened to the message one Officer Bartlett had left for him, he began to realize what a big mistake that had been.

* * *

Pastor Jim had spent his Saturday helping to take care of a woman from his congregation who had recently lost her husband in a car accident. The woman was left alone to take care of their six children and she herself was in poor health.

Jim usually made sure that his housekeeper, Margaret, was at the parish house to field any emergent phone calls, but she had taken the weekend off to be with her daughter who was delivering her first baby. He figured that the few hours he would be gone would be fine, because he rarely got any emergent hunter-related calls. And even if he did, they knew to call either Bobby or Rufus if he didn't answer.

What he didn't think about, though, was the possibility that the Winchester boys might need his help. In all the time he'd known the Winchester family, he had only had one instance where Dean had called him with a problem. One time in the seven plus years he'd known the small family.

When he finally returned to the parish house that evening, he noticed the blinking light on his answering machine. He immediately listened to it and then immediately called Bobby, hoping that he had been available to help the Winchester boys. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that Bobby hadn't been there when the boys needed him, either.

Jim quickly called the number that Officer Bartlett left, hoping and praying that it wasn't too late to give Sam and Dean the help they needed.

* * *

It was almost four o'clock when John was finally done and ready to head back to his boys. After he finished packing up the Impala, he quickly dialed the number to the small house, eager to let Dean know he was done and would be on his way.

He was surprised when the phone just rang and rang and rang. He hung up the phone and redialed, hoping that maybe he had just dialed the wrong number, but the call was unanswered again.

Panic started to fill him, but he quickly squelched it, knowing that it wasn't going to do him any good. He dialed Bobby's number and when no one answered that, he dialed one of the other numbers. He was surprised when Rufus answered the call.

"Rufus, where's Bobby?" he asked without any preamble or niceties.

"Who is this?" Rufus asked angrily, even though he knew who it was.

"It's John Winchester. Where's Bobby?"

"How should I know?" Rufus answered. "He's off hunting something with Caleb, so I'm manning the phones."

John was silent for a few seconds. "If you hear from him, tell him I called. And I'll call him every hour on the hour until I reach him."

Once he hung up the phone, he dialed Jim's number. He almost threw the phone against the wall when Jim's call went unanswered, too. After leaving a quick message for the man, he walked out of the motel room and got into the Impala. He didn't care about speed limits or safety as he started the nearly eight hour drive back home. All he cared about was getting home to his boys.

* * *

Dean and Sam spent almost six hours at the police station before it happened. Sam had passed out on a small bench in the corner of the room they were in, his head resting in Dean's lap and his feet hanging over the edge of the bench. Dean's leg was hurting from the weight of his brother's head, but he didn't dare move. He knew that Sam was as scared as he was and he wanted him to be able to sleep through it all, if possible.

He, on the other hand, needed to stay awake and alert in order to watch out for Sammy.

He had just rested his head against the wall when the door opened and Officer Bartlett walked in, followed by an older woman holding a clipboard. They both looked down at Sam, who was still fast asleep.

"Dean? This is Mrs. Carpenter. She works for the Department of Health and Human Services, Children and Family Services division."

Dean looked up at both adults, but didn't say anything or move to get up.

"Hello, Dean," Mrs. Carpenter said as she bent down in front of him. "It's nice to meet you."

Dean didn't say anything. Instead, he returned his gaze to his brother's small form. He childishly thought that if he didn't look at her, she would go away. He knew it wouldn't actually work, but he didn't know what else to do.

When he didn't answer, Mrs. Carpenter straightened up and grabbed a nearby chair. She placed it right in front of Dean and then settled herself into it. "Dean, I know it's been a rough day for you. You've been through a lot and I'm here to make sure that you and, um….." she hesitated for a few seconds while she looked down at her clipboard... "….Sam are safe and taken care of until we can find your dad."

Dean still didn't answer, so she continued. "We've tried calling your father several times, as well as the other two names you've given us. No one has answered yet, but we will definitely keep trying. In the meantime, I think we need to get you and your brother someplace where you can get some rest. How does that sound?"

"We just wanna go home," Dean immediately answered.

"I know you do, dear, but we need to take you somewhere where someone can take care of you and your brother."

"I can take care of Sammy," Dean said loudly. "I don't need any help."

"Dean, I can't let you go back home. You're just a child yourself."

"No, I'm not! I've been taking care of Sammy for a long time. We don't need any help!"

Mrs. Carpenter looked over at Officer Bartlett, silently asking for help. Officer Bartlett tried, but wasn't doing much to convince Dean, either. Eventually, they both realized that they were just going to have to do what had to be done. With a pointed look from Mrs. Carpenter, Officer Bartlett stepped over and picked Sam up off of the bench. Dean immediately came unglued, jumping to his feet and reaching out for his brother. Right before their eyes, he became a whirling dervish, circling around the officer, trying with all of his might to reach his brother.

But Officer Bartlett was too tall and too strong for Dean's efforts to have any effect. Despite the multitude of kicks and punches that landed on his body, he made his way out the door of the room, out the door of the police station, and over to a car that was parked next to his patrol car. By this time, Sam was wide awake and was trying desperately to get to his brother, without success.

Eventually, Officer Bartlett was able to get Dean to realize how upset his brother was and the boy finally stopped fighting. All it took was one look at Sam's devastated face for Dean to climb in the back seat of the car and start trying to calm his brother down.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said, over and over again. He hoped that his little brother believed the words he was repeating. He hoped that his little brother didn't realize just how big of a mess they were actually in. And he hoped that his little brother didn't realize just how far from okay everything really was.

* * *

Author's note: Uh oh, poor Sam and Dean are in a bit of a jam. Their biggest fear just might be coming true.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I sure would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter/story. Take care.


	42. Stay Awake

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 42

Stay Awake

* * *

Dean was staring out the window of the car when they pulled up in front of a well-worn, but tidy little house. Dean immediately noticed the scattered toys in the front yard and the tire swing that was swinging slightly from the big oak tree in the corner. He hadn't ever swung on a tire swing before and he had a sudden insane desire to rush out of the car and straight over to the tree. He couldn't help but think that maybe everything would be okay if he could just do something normal like swing on a tire swing.

Once the car was at a complete stop, Mrs. Carpenter opened her door and got out. Dean's eyes landed on her and never moved, watching as she opened up the door on Sam's side of the car first. She held her hand out to Sam, but Dean quickly moved over his brother and stepped out of the car first, pushing her hand away with his body. Once she was out of the way, he reached in and picked Sam up, struggling under the weight of his overly tired little brother.

Mrs. Carpenter stepped aside and watched as Dean picked Sam up. She knew better than to interfere at the moment, knowing that it was only going to make things worse if she did. Once Dean had straightened up, she started walking down the pathway that led to the door, looking behind her every few seconds to make sure the boys were following. She obviously didn't put it past Dean to make a run for it.

Before they made it to the door, it swung open. Dean looked up to see a young woman standing in the doorway with a baby on her hip and another young boy standing next to her. The smile on her face did nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Mrs. Fuller, thank you so much for being available on such short notice." Looking over at Sam and Dean, Mrs. Carpenter quickly introduced them. "This is Sam," she said, ruffling Sam's hair before turning to Dean, who had pulled away slightly. "And this is Dean. Boys, this is Sarah Fuller."

Sam gave her a shy wave, but Dean completely ignored her.

"Come in," Sarah said as she opened the door wider to allow them through. Once they were in the house, she led them into the small living room. Dean settled Sam down on the couch and then sat down next to him, making sure they were as close to each other as possible.

"You boys will be staying here for now," Mrs. Carpenter explained. "We're looking for your father, but until we find him, Mrs. Fuller will be taking care of you."

After a few more minutes, Mrs. Carpenter stood up, said goodbye, and walked out the door, leaving Sam and Dean to stare at the woman before them. Mrs. Fuller gave them the biggest smile she could, hoping to put them at ease.

"This is Charlotte," she said, pointing to the baby who was contentedly sucking on her thumb. "And this is Ryan." The boy at her side looked to be about the same age as Dean and he really didn't look happy to have them there. Sam gave another small wave and Dean completely ignored them again.

"Are you two hungry? I know it's late, but I can whip something up really quick."

Dean _was_ hungry, but he wasn't sure he was ready to admit it. All he really wanted to do was take Sam and go somewhere where they could be alone. But, he knew that Sam was probably hungry, too, so he gave in.

"Sam's hungry, I think," he said simply.

Sarah headed out of the room, asking them to follow her. Dean stood up and pulled Sam up to stand next to him. "Come on, Sammy," he said quietly.

Once they were in the kitchen, Dean and Sam sat down at the table, watching Sarah as she put the baby in a high chair and moved over to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon.

"Do you like bacon?" she asked as she turned on the stove.

"Dean loves bacon!" Sam answered loudly. "It's his favorite."

Sarah laughed at Sam's sudden enthusiasm. "I'll have to remember that. What about you, Sam? Do you like bacon, too?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam answered, returning to his previous shyness.

"Okay, then…. Bacon and eggs coming right up. Ryan, can you show Dean where the dishes are? And get out the orange juice, too, please. Sam, can you help set the table?"

Sam quickly jumped up, eager to help. Dean was a little slower, but he, too, did what he was told. A minute later, the table was set and they were just waiting for the food to be done. Dean could hear Sam's stomach growling and he felt guilty for not insisting that they eat sooner. He got a little embarrassed when his own stomach growled loudly just as Sarah started piling the bacon on his plate.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," she laughed.

"A little," Dean admitted with a small smile.

"Well, dig in. If you're still hungry afterwards, I have some fresh-baked cookies."

"Dean likes pie," Sam offered.

"I like cookies, too, Sam."

"Yeah, but you like pie better, Dean."

"Sam…."

"It's okay. I think I might have some pie, too, actually," Sarah said. "But you boys need to eat up first."

Sam quickly dug into his food and Dean wasn't too far behind him. By the time they were done, Sarah had already put a piece of apple pie in front of Dean and a plate of cookies on the table for the rest of them. By the time they were done with dessert, Sam could barely keep his eyes open.

"Looks like it's time to settle down for the night," Sarah asked, not missing the huge yawn that escaped Dean. "Let's go figure out the sleeping situation."

Dean stood up and started clearing off the table, but Sarah stopped him. "Just leave that for now, Dean. Your brother is about to fall asleep standing up."

Dean set the plate back on the table and grabbed Sam's hand. They followed Sarah out of the kitchen and towards the back of the house, but before they were through the living room, the door opened and a tall man stepped into the house. Dean immediately pushed Sam behind him.

"Dad!" Ryan yelled as he surged forward. "You're home!"

"Hey, kiddo." The man grabbed Ryan up and swung him around. "What's going on?" he asked as his eyes ran over Sam and Dean before turning to his wife.

"Hi, honey. We have a few houseguests for the next few days. Sam and Dean, this is my husband, Jake. Jake, this is Sam and Dean."

"Hey, boys. It's nice to meet you." Jake walked forward and held out his hand. Dean kept Sam firmly behind him and didn't offer his hand to the man. Jake shared a quick glance with Sarah before pulling his hand back.

"I was just getting ready to settle them in for the night, Jake. Would you mind taking Charlotte for me?"

Jake took the baby from Sarah who then turned back to Sam and Dean. "What do you say you boys head on into the bathroom while I scrounge up something for you to sleep in? There are some extra toothbrushes in the linen closet, Dean. Along with towels and washcloths, in case you want to take a bath or shower."

Dean pulled Sam into the bathroom and closed the door behind them. A few minutes later, they had just finished brushing their teeth when there was a knock at the door. Dean opened the door to find Sarah standing there with a stack of clean clothes.

"Here you go. I think these should fit you."

Dean took the clothes from her and closed the door. He helped Sam out of his clothes and into the t-shirt and pajama pants that were his size before changing into his own. The t-shirt he put on was a little big for him, but he didn't really care.

Once they were dressed, Dean folded up their own clothes and opened the door. Sarah was waiting just outside the door.

"Why don't I take those and put them through the wash?" she asked, indicating the clothes Dean was holding. "That way, you'll have some clean clothes for tomorrow."

Dean handed over the clothes a little reluctantly. Once she had them in hand, Sarah walked further down the hall. "I thought you could bunk in with Ryan, Dean. He has a bunk bed. And Sam can sleep in Charlotte's room. There's an extra bed in there."

"No," Dean said simply."

"I'm sorry? What?" Sarah asked.

"Sam stays with me."

"Oh. Oh, of course, Dean. I don't know what I was thinking. Of course, you boys will want to stay together. How about you and Sam stay in Ryan's room and Ryan can sleep with Charlotte."

Dean nodded at her, glad that she didn't put up a fight. There was no way he was going to let Sam out of his sight for even a second. Following her into Ryan's room, Dean quickly checked it out. There was only one window in the small room and the bunk bed was tucked up in the corner next to it. Dean moved over to it and helped Sam slide into the bottom bunk. Sarah reached up to pull down the blankets on the top bunk for Dean, but he stopped her.

"I'll just sleep down here," he said quietly, but firmly. "With Sam."

"Of course," Sarah answered. "Okay, then. Well, if you need anything- anything at all- we'll be right down the hall, Dean. Second door on the left, okay?"

Dean nodded his head and then watched her leave. As soon as the door was closed behind her, Dean climbed into the bed next to Sam. He could feel Sam trembling slightly next to him. "You okay?" he asked.

"I want Daddy," Sam answered softly.

"I know," Dean said. "We'll see him tomorrow, Sammy."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He said he'd be home today. He's just running a little late."

"Is he gonna be mad that we're not home?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. But, it'll be okay, I promise."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Sam," Dean said as he rolled over, turning his back to Sam. He wasn't surprised when Sam snuggled up against his back.

"Goodnight, Dean."

* * *

John stopped about every thirty minutes to call both Bobby and Jim, hoping that they would have some news on his boys. Unfortunately, they never answered. Growing angrier and more scared with each passing mile, John's imagination was going wild with all kinds of crazy scenarios.

 _What if there was a fire? What if one of them got hit by a car? What if the boys got kidnapped by some monster? What if they were sick? Or what if there was a tornado or an earthquake or a tsunami?_

John knew that he was being ridiculous with his wild ideas, but he couldn't stop them. It didn't make any sense that Dean wasn't answering his phone calls. They should have been home. It was a Saturday and Dean knew better than to leave the house. _Didn't he?_

Of course, John knew it wasn't that far-fetched to think that they boys might have been playing outside when he called. Or that they might have walked to the store. They might have even gone to the park that wasn't too far away. He knew he hadn't expressly forbidden such things and they were just kids, after all, but he trusted Dean to be smart about things. He was sure that the boy knew that he really didn't want them leaving the house like that.

Getting back out onto the highway after the last round of phone calls, John noticed the sudden dark clouds that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Just seconds later, fat raindrops started falling, turning quickly into a torrential downpour. John knew that he should probably pull over and wait the storm out, but he was too anxious to get back to his boys. So instead, he eased up just slightly on the gas pedal. He was still traveling much too fast for the conditions he was driving in, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting home to Sam and Dean.

* * *

After listening to the message that one Officer Bartlett had left for him, Bobby did two things. First, he called Rufus to find out if he knew anything at all about John's whereabouts. Rufus filled him in quickly on the fact that John had been calling practically every thirty minutes, but that it had now been almost an hour since he'd heard from him. Rufus told him where John had been the last time he'd spoken to him and they figured out that he was just about three hours away from where the Winchesters were currently staying.

Bobby, himself, was almost five hours away, so he quickly cleaned himself up and got back into his car, heading towards Sam and Dean. He had no idea what had happened to the boys and he tried hard not to dwell on the multitude of things that could have gone wrong. Instead, he focused on the road before him, intent on making the five hour drive much faster than five hours.

He couldn't help but curse John Winchester's name for once again doing something that put his boys in danger. _When would the man learn that they were too young to be left alone all the time?_

* * *

Despite how tired he was, it took Dean almost two hours to fall asleep. Sam fell asleep almost immediately, his gentle breathing enough to lull Dean to the edge of sleep, but not enough to send him over. He had too many thoughts running through his mind to give in to the almost total exhaustion he was feeling.

Sarah and Jake Fuller were a nice enough couple and Dean was pretty sure that they really were trying to help them, but he had been taught not to trust people. His dad would have his hide if he gave in to the intense desire to trust such seemingly nice people.

While he felt fairly safe at the moment, he knew he couldn't let his guard down. He had to stay focused and stay alert. He had to watch out for Sammy.

But, he was so tired. Both physically and emotionally tired. And all he really wanted to do was go to sleep and wake up the next morning in the little house they were living in, relieved to learn that everything that had happened that day had all been a dream. _But when did Dean Winchester ever get what he wanted?_

When he did finally fall asleep, he had one arm wrapped around his brother and one hand gripping onto the small serrated hunting knife his dad always insisted he carry with him. When he woke to the sounds of Sam screaming just a few hours later, he sat up quickly, ready to fight whatever was threatening them. He was a little confused when he first woke up, not remembering where they were and totally perplexed when he saw the baseball posters and model airplanes that adorned the room they were in. By the time the door to the bedroom opened, it was beginning to all come back to him.

Not fast enough, though.

* * *

Sarah and Jake were both brought out of their peaceful slumber by the shrill screams coming from down the hall. Jake wasted no time in getting up, yelling at his wife to stay in the room. Sarah didn't, though. She followed her husband out of their room and down the hall, anxious to check on Ryan and Charlotte. She had just cleared the doorway of her room when she remembered that they were housing two additional children, too.

Since Charlotte's room was the closest, they both looked in, relieved to see Charlotte still sleeping in her bed and Ryan sitting up on the extra bed. "Stay here, Sarah," Jake yelled. "I'll check on Sam and Dean."

Sarah moved into the room and over to where Ryan was. She could tell that the boy was terrified, so she sat down next to him and tried to calm him down. She also started praying that Sam and Dean were okay.

Jake wasted no time in entering the bedroom that Sam and Dean were staying in. Throwing the door open aggressively, he quickly turned on the light as he stepped into the room. It took him several seconds to recognize the fact that they were alone in the room. There weren't any intruders threatening the lives of the two boys. No monsters, either, except the ones in whatever nightmare one of the boys just had.

As his mind wrapped around the fact that it was nothing more than a child's nightmare that had caused the screaming that had awoken them so harshly, he stepped towards the bed. His intent was to try to calm the now crying seven-year-old down, but he stopped abruptly when he saw the small knife Dean was waving toward him.

"Dean! Put that down!" he yelled, panic coursing through his veins at the sight of the serrated blade.

Dean didn't, though. Instead, he held onto the blade even tighter, his eyes never leaving the face of the man standing before him. He wanted desperately to turn to Sam and tell him that everything was okay, but he wasn't ready to stand down. Having someone burst into the room so violently had shaken him up too much.

Jake took another step towards the bed, holding his hands up in front of him. "Dean, it's okay. It's just me." He watched as the boy blinked a few times and then slowly lowered the knife. Jake wanted to take the knife away from him, but he knew better than to make too quick of a move. Sam and Dean weren't the first troubled children they'd welcomed into their home, after all.

Once Dean realized that it was just Jake and that he wasn't going to do anything, he turned back to Sam. "It's okay, Sammy. It was just a dream, okay? You're alright."

"Dean? Where are we?" Sam asked quietly, obviously just as confused as Dean had been when he first woke up.

"We're…. uh, we're safe, Sam. Remember? We're staying with Sarah and Jake."

He could see the second Sam started to remember and he was happy to see that his little brother was holding himself together like a true Winchester.

"I had a bad dream, Dean," Sam said sadly.

"I know."

"It was really scary! And Daddy was gone. He couldn't save you, Dean."

"Sammy, I'm okay. I'm right here and it was just a stupid dream."

"I want Daddy," Sam repeated what he had said earlier.

Before Dean could answer, Jake stepped forward until he was just a few feet away from the bed. "Hey, Sammy. You gave us quite a scare there, kiddo."

Dean glared at the man, wanting to tell him that no one called Sammy 'Sammy" except for him and their dad. But, he held his tongue for Sam's sake.

"Sorry," Sam whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you all up."

"No, it's okay, Sam. It was just a bad dream. I've been known to wake up from a few of those myself."

Sam gave him a small smile as he sat himself up a little more.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

"I-I th-think so," Sam stammered.

Jake gave Sam a smile and then looked down at Dean uncertainly. Dean was still holding onto the knife, but was holding it down by his leg.

"Dean, what do you say I take that for now," Jake asked, pointing at the knife. Dean just tightened his grip on the handle. "Dean, it's for the best."

Dean didn't answer and he didn't offer the knife to Jake. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he looked at the man defiantly. Jake felt a rush of sadness at the look of determination on the kid's face. _Where had he gotten a knife like that? And what had these boys been through to make Dean think he even needed a knife like that, in the first place?_

Realizing they were at a standstill and realizing that there was no way Dean was going to give up the knife willingly, Jake tried to come up with a compromise. "Okay, Dean. You can keep the knife." _For now,_ he thought to himself. "But it needs to be put away, understand? It's not safe for you to be waving that thing around."

Dean wanted to argue that he wasn't _waving it around_ , but he kept his mouth shut. One of John Winchester's favorite lessons was learning to keep your mouth shut when the situation called for it. Not that Dean was ever very good at that particular rule.

But, he realized the compromise for what it was. He knew that if he insisted on keeping the knife out and in his hand, Jake would be confiscating it. He'd rather have it back in its sheath and under his pillow than wherever Jake would be hiding it. Without a word, he sheathed the small knife and placed it under his pillow. He didn't miss the concerned look on Jake's face and found himself wanting to assure the man that he knew how to handle a knife. He wasn't sure, though, that the man would find any peace in that knowledge.

Once the knife was put away, Jake turned to leave. Once he was at the door, he turned back to look at the boys. "I'm going to leave the light on, because Sarah's going to want to check on you before she goes back to bed. She'll be here in a few minutes."

Jake left the room and just a minute later, Sarah appeared in the doorway. She gave Sam and Dean a small smile as she entered the room. "I'm sorry you had such a bad dream, Sam," she said as she stopped right by the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said shyly.

Dean was always surprised at how shy Sam was when he was around a woman. In the beginning, at least. By the time they left, he knew that Sam would have Sarah wrapped around his little finger. And vice versa. _That's just how it worked with the kid._

"Do you think you can both go back to sleep? Or we could go downstairs and have some hot chocolate?"

Dean knew that Sam would jump at the chance to have some hot chocolate, but he didn't want to go back downstairs. So, before Sam could say anything, he answered Sarah.

"We're okay. We just wanna go back to sleep." He could feel Sam's disappointment, but he didn't care. He knew he didn't have it in him to get out of bed at the moment.

"Alright," Sarah said with a small smile. She moved closer to the bed and rearranged the blankets, pulling them up more squarely on the bed. Dean could vaguely remember his mom doing that whenever he woke up from a bad dream. For some reason, his blankets always ended up on the floor.

Once Sarah had left the room, Dean turned to face his brother. "Do you really think you can go back to sleep, Sam?"

"Yeah, but I wanted some hot chocolate, Dean," Sam whined. "I bet they even have whipped cream to go on top."

Dean felt guilty for denying his little brother something as special as hot chocolate with whipped cream. "Sorry, Sammy. I'm just really tired and I wanna go back to sleep. Maybe we can have some hot chocolate in the morning, okay?"

"Okay, Dean. Will you ask her in the morning? Please?"

"I will. I promise. Now go to sleep, okay?"

"Goodnight, Dean," Sam said with a big yawn. Just seconds later, he was sound asleep again.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach and put his hand under the pillow, reaching for his knife. His body relaxed at the feel of the cold steel of the handle and just minutes later, he had fallen asleep, too.

* * *

John rubbed one hand over his face as the other hand gripped the steering wheel. He had been driving for almost five hours- with only breaks long enough to make phone calls and fill up the gas tank- and he was exhausted. If he had been smart, he would have gotten some rest before attempting the long drive, but not being able to get a hold of his boys made him throw all caution to the wind.

He was just thinking that he should pull over for a short break and to make another phone call when it happened. He had just come around a sharp curve, and was admittedly taking it a bit too fast, when a deer darted out in front of him. Slamming on his brakes and jerking the steering wheel to the right, John suddenly found himself careening off the road and down a small embankment. The Impala came to an abrupt stop against the base of a large tree and John's head smacked violently against the windshield. His last thought before darkness consumed him was of his boys.

* * *

Author's note: Sheesh! I can't believe you all are still reading this with the way I'm treating you! Another cliffhanger? When did I get to be so mean?!

Well, it looks like the Winchester family is in for another bit of bad luck. At least, Sam and Dean are safe with the Fullers, right? Right?

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I truly appreciate every single review and I do try to reply to them in a timely manner. For those guest reviewers, I can't reply to you, but I appreciate you, too. Oh, and guest reviewer Michelle…. I'm glad my stories can maybe help you through a bad work day. That's awesome.


	43. Real Life

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 43

Real Life

* * *

Dean woke up the next morning to the sound of Sam's laughter coming from down the hall. He immediately jumped out of bed and ran out of the room, disregarding his full bladder that was making its presence known. Seconds later, he ran into the kitchen to find Sam sitting at the breakfast table, eating a stack of pancakes.

"Sam! What are you doing?!"

"Pancakes!" Sam said, or at least that's what Dean thought he said. The kid's mouth was so full of pancake that Dean was worried he might choke.

"You shouldn't have left without me, Sam! I didn't know where you were when I woke up."

Sam finished chewing and then swallowed his food. "I just came here, Dean. Sarah made pancakes and I was hungry."

"Well, don't do it again, okay? I need to know where you are."

Sarah had been watching the two boys and wondered if Dean had even realized she was in the room yet. She wasn't surprised to see that his entire focus was on his little brother. "Are you hungry, Dean?" she asked as she put another stack of pancakes down on the table. "I made a lot."

Dean eyed the pancakes and blushed when his stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear. Sitting down next to Sam, he finally looked up at Sarah. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. How about a glass of milk to go along with those pancakes?"

"They have chocolate milk, Dean!" Sam said excitedly. "Can I have some more, Sarah? Please?"

"Of course, Sam."

Dean watched as Sarah refilled Sam's glass and then put another glass of chocolate milk in front of him. He gave her another quick thanks and then started eating the pancakes. He was pretty sure he'd never had pancakes quite as good as the ones she'd made and just minutes later his plate was empty.

"I'd say you _were_ hungry, Dean. But, it is almost eleven o'clock. Almost lunchtime."

Dean looked up at the clock, surprised to see that he had slept in so late. He suddenly wondered how long Sam had been up and out of the room, figuring that he needed to have another talk with the kid about not going anywhere without him.

Sarah placed two more pancakes on Dean's plate and then sat down on the other side of Sam. "I thought that maybe when you two are done, we could maybe go into town and do a little shopping. You two need some more clothes, just in case you're here for a while."

"We won't be," Dean said instantly. "Our dad will be here soon."

"Well, just in case," Sarah said. "I need to go to the grocery store, anyway. Sam said he'd like spaghetti for dinner, so I'll need to pick up a few things. Do you like spaghetti, Dean?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, there's no need to call me ma'am, Dean. Just Sarah, okay?"

Dean nodded his head and then finished off the last pancake. Once he was done, he stood up and grabbed Sam's hand. "Let's go, Sam."

Sam let Dean pull him out of the kitchen and then followed him to the room they were staying in. Once the door was closed behind them, Dean turned to his little brother angrily. "Don't you ever do that again, Sammy," he nearly yelled.

"Do what?" he asked, his eyes welling up with tears. He hated it when Dean was mad at him.

"Don't go off anywhere without me! I need to know where you are, okay? I have to protect you!"

"I didn't need protectin', Dean. I was with Sarah."

"Sam, I know Sarah seems nice, but we don't really know her. What if she's not nice? What if she wanted to hurt you?"

"She wouldn't," Sam answered matter-of-factly. "She likes me, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just don't do it again, okay? If you do, I'll tell Dad and he'll be mad."

Sam looked totally betrayed by his brother's words. He was used to Dean sticking up for him when it came to their dad, not throwing him under the bus. But, he could also tell that Dean had been a little scared when he first came into the kitchen, and he felt a little bad about that.

"Okay, Dean. Next time, I'll wake you up before I go eat pancakes.

Dean guessed that was all he could really ask for.

* * *

They spent the morning at a small shopping center and by the time they were done, both Sam and Dean were the proud owners of several new t-shirts and pairs of jeans, not to mention new underwear, socks, and pajamas. Sarah had even bought them both new shoes because Dean's were just a little too small and one of Sam's had a hole in it.

Sam was excited about his new clothes and especially loved the Thundercat t-shirt he'd found. Dean, on the other hand, felt bad that Sarah had spent her money on them. He didn't think they needed new clothes, but deep down he was thankful for the new shoes. For the first time in at least three months, his toes didn't feel squished.

After stopping at the grocery store and then grabbing a few burgers for lunch, Sarah took them home. "Dean? Sam? Why don't you go put your stuff away and then maybe you can go play outside for a while. I bet you'd love to take a swing on that tire out there, right?"

Dean grabbed all the bags out of the car and then motioned for Sam to follow him. After they put everything away, they both ran down the stairs, racing to the swing since Dean said the first one there got to swing on it first. Dean let Sam win, of course, and he watched as his little brother climbed inside the tire.

"Push me, Dean," Sam said. "Please?"

Dean stepped over and started pushing Sam. Once Sam was swinging, spinning, and laughing, Dean moved away and sat down on the cool grass. He wanted to take a turn on the swing, too, but he figured it wouldn't be as much fun since he really didn't have anyone to push him. _He knew Sam would try, but the kid was a pipsqueak._

Instead, he kept one eye on his brother, while the rest of him lay in the grass, wondering where their dad was and when he was going to come and get them. _If_ he was going to come get them.

* * *

Bobby made the drive to the town the Winchesters were staying in in a little less than four hours. He had no idea how fast he had driven to make such good time. He only knew that his focus was on getting to the boys as fast as he could.

Since he knew Sam and Dean had been taken to the police station, that's where he went first. It was pretty late in the evening when he finally showed up and he was tired and hungry, but he didn't care. He needed to know where his boys were.

Stepping into the police station went against every hunter's instinct he had, but he did it anyway. Bobby walked right up to the main desk and asked for Officer Bartlett, not thinking clear enough to realize that the man was probably already off duty.

"I'm sorry sir, but Officer Bartlett is no longer on duty. Is there something I could help you with?"

Bobby quickly explained what he was there for and the young officer at the desk quickly referred him to another officer. Of course, Bobby had to wait for a while before the person was able to talk to him, so he found himself sitting in a small waiting room.

As he sat there, his thoughts moved to Sam and Dean and what they must be going through. Bobby knew that wherever they were, Dean was looking out for his little brother, but he worried who was looking out for Dean. He figured that they were probably in some emergency foster home or a group home and he could imagine just how scared they were.

Of course, Dean would never admit to being scared, but Bobby knew he was. The kid was used to taking care of himself and his little brother, and he really had a hard time trusting anyone else. Especially after everything that had happened recently.

Bobby knew that the fact that they had been kidnapped right out from under his and John's noses a few months ago really did a lot to mess up any semblance of trust Dean had inside of him. If he couldn't trust his own dad or surrogate uncle to keep them safe, then who in the world _could_ he trust?

And now this was happening. He really had no idea what had led to the boys being picked up by police, so that had him worried, too. He could imagine any number of things that would have led to CPS taking the boys, and any number of those things scared the hell out of him. Once again, he found himself cursing John Winchester for leaving his children alone. Didn't the man realize the danger he put them in each and every time he left? Didn't he realize that he was risking so much by doing that?

Bobby vowed right then and there that he would make John understand just what he was doing, even if he had to do it at the end of his rifle. _Maybe a little buckshot would make it sink in a little better than the other twenty times he'd talked to the man about it. Probably not, though,_ he thought.

After waiting almost fifteen minutes, an older woman came out and introduced herself.

"Hello. I'm Officer Winslow. How can I help you?"

Bobby stood up as quickly as his stiff back would let him and introduced himself. "Officer Winslow, I'm Bobby Singer. I'm here to collect my nephews, Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Oh, we were expecting their father."

"He's, uh…. he's been detained, so he sent me to pick them up."

"Okay, well…. do you have papers that designate you as a relative?

Bobby hesitated, angry at himself for not anticipating the fact that they weren't going to release the boys to just anyone who showed up. "Well, no, I don't," he finally said as he tried to contain his embarrassment for being so stupid.

"Mr. Singer, I'm sure you can understand that we can't just release the boys without proper proof that you're a relative."

"Yes… yes, of course. So, what do I need to do to get that proof?"

"You'll need a court order saying that the boys can be released to you. If you go to the courthouse, they'll be able to assist you with what documentation you need to get the process started. In the meantime, or until Mr. Winchester arrives, the boys will stay in their current placement."

"Could you tell me where the courthouse is?"

"It's just down the road, Mr. Singer, but it's closed until Monday morning."

"So, you're telling me that the boys are going to have to stay in the system until Monday?" Bobby asked angrily.

"At least until Monday, although I imagine it will take a little longer than that to get all the paperwork in order. But, they're in good hands, Mr. Singer. The family they've been placed with is one of our best."

Bobby felt just a second of relief at hearing that, but it quickly faded. Sam and Dean may be with nice people, but they weren't with people that could truly protect them from what was really out there. And Bobby didn't know for sure, but he felt like maybe there was something about those boys that attracted the supernatural a little more than normal.

* * *

John woke up in a blind panic, fear building in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He had no idea where he was or what was going on. All he knew was that he couldn't see anything, couldn't breathe very easily, and couldn't seem to move more than just a few muscles.

Forcing himself to calm down, he tried to assess the situation like he'd been taught by Jim and Bobby. He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed to be glued shut. It took him a few minutes to realize that they were both swollen shut. Once he figured that out, he moved on to his breathing. Every breath seemed like he was trying to breathe through a straw and he never seemed to get quite enough air into his lungs. He also realized quickly that he couldn't talk.

Next, he focused on what he was hearing around him. There were several voices nearby, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. There was a beeping noise coming from somewhere above his head and to the right, and there was a whooshing sound that seemed to correlate with each breath he took. Everyone once in a while- if he wasn't concentrating on his breathing enough- there was a loud, five note, song-like alarm that went off.

It took him a little longer than it normally would to realize that he was in the hospital and that he was on a ventilator. Which partly explained why he couldn't move his arms. He knew from past experiences that some hospitals restrained the wrists of their ventilator patients in an attempt to prevent them from pulling out their breathing tubes.

He absolutely hated being tied down, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to move his arms, even if he hadn't been. He felt profoundly weak and almost as if he wasn't even in his own body and he suddenly wondered if he was paralyzed.

The thought of being paralyzed, of never being able to walk or use his arms again, scared the hell out of him and he felt himself starting to panic. The alarms above and to the side of him started to sound off and he suddenly heard the voices moving closer to him. Within seconds, there were several people moving around his bed, checking him out and trying to calm him down. He heard someone- his doctor probably- order one of the nurses to give him medication to calm him and a mere minute later, he could feel himself start to fade away.

His last thought before the medication completely took him under was of Sam and Dean.

* * *

Sam and Dean spent several hours outside, but eventually Sarah called them back inside. The weather had changed quickly and they had just made it inside when the first raindrop fell. A few minutes later, the sky had opened up and a deluge of rain fell over the neighborhood.

When the first sound of thunder tore through the sky, Dean suddenly found his arms full of his little brother. He knew that Sam hated thunder and lightning, so he held onto him tightly as they sat in the living room.

"Hey, Sammy…. Want me to tell you a story?" Dean asked, trying to get his brother's mind off of the storm. When he felt Sam nod his head against his chest, Dean tried to come up with a good story idea. "Okay….. do you want a story about an elephant that wanted to learn how to tap dance or about a hippo that wanted to fly?"

"Hippo," Sam answered, his voice muffled by the fact that his face was buried into Dean's shirt.

"Okay, little bro. The hippo story it is! But, I'm gonna need you to sit next to me, okay?"

Sam didn't want to move from his safe spot, but after a few minutes of coaxing, he did. He settled in next to Dean on the couch, but he kept one hand wrapped up tightly in the side of Dean's shirt. Dean started telling his story, trying to keep Sam's attention off of the more and more frequent peals of thunder and flashes of lightning. He could tell the storm was getting closer.

After one particularly loud roll of thunder, Dean found himself holding onto his brother once again. Sarah had just entered the living room carrying a tray of snacks for the boys, but she stopped before either of them noticed her. As she stood there, she felt a sudden desire to step in and put her arms around both boys, but instead she just watched as Dean tried to comfort his little brother.

They had taken in many different kids over the last few years, most of them emergency placements for a few days or weeks, but these two boys really touched her heart. She could tell that Sam was a sweet child and was smarter than most kids his age or even a few years older than him. She could also tell that Dean was his hero. In Sam's mind, there wasn't anything his big brother couldn't do and Sarah knew that he relied on Dean for everything.

Dean was smart for his age, too, but it was a different kind of smart. He was smart in a way that made Sarah think that he'd seen a lot in his young life. That he'd seen too much, actually. Sarah hated the look of distrust the kid sent to anyone who wasn't his little brother. And the way he looked at his brother, the way he watched out for his brother, just about broke her heart. She knew that there wasn't anything Dean wouldn't do for Sam and that scared her a little.

 _What kind of life did they have? Where was there mother and father? Why were they left alone and why hadn't anyone come forward yet to claim them?_ So many questions and she knew that the answers to those questions would probably break her heart even more. She wanted nothing more than to wrap them both up in her arms and smother their heads with kisses. She wanted to protect them and make them feel safe, because she had a feeling that they didn't usually feel that way. Something about the two boys in her living room made her think that their lives were scary and sad and lonely.

* * *

After talking to Officer a little more about Sam and Dean's current whereabouts, Bobby decided he'd really like to know what had happened.

"Officer Winslow, can you tell me a little bit about how the boys ended up in your custody? I know that they were left alone for a few hours and that their daddy wasn't planning on being gone more than that. He had a quick job to do, but was coming right back. So, how did they end up here?"

Officer Winslow looked like she didn't agree with someone leaving such young children alone like John had done and Bobby couldn't disagree with her, but he was pretty sure that the law didn't prohibit the act. Of course, he was pretty sure that they were only meant to be left alone for short terms, not for days on end.

"The boys were at Ainsley Park earlier today, apparently by themselves. While they were there, some idiot decided to drive by and shoot multiple rounds into the air from an automatic rifle. We found the guy who did it and he confessed to doing it, saying that it was a joke and that he was just trying to scare people, that he was only firing into the air."

"Idjit," Bobby growled, causing Officer Winslow to smile.

"That's putting it nicely," she laughed.

"So, I imagine Sam and Dean were pretty scared," Bobby said.

"Everyone in the park was, rightfully so. But, I understand that Dean was quite the protector of his little brother. One of the other people in the park said that he didn't waste any time in throwing himself over his little brother to shield him."

"That sounds like Dean," Bobby said with a sad smile.

"He seems like a brave kid."

"Sometimes to a fault," Bobby answered. "But, he's a good kid. They both are."

After talking a few more minutes, Bobby got up and left the police station. He made his way to the small house where the Winchesters were staying at and let himself in after picking the lock. Once inside the house, he looked around the place. He wasn't surprised to see that for the most part the living room was at least picked up. The television was still on and there were some dishes left in the sink from earlier, but all in all, the place was clean.

For some reason, that made him undeniably sad.

* * *

By dinnertime the storm had passed, much to Sam's relief. Dean was exhausted, having spent most of the afternoon trying to keep his brother calm. And Sam was exhausted just from being so nervous.

Jake had returned with Charlotte and Ryan just before dinner, much to Dean's dislike. Whenever Jake was around, Dean felt like he had to be even more alert and cautious than normal and it was exhausting. Not that Jake wasn't a nice guy, because he was. It was just that he was a guy. And Dean didn't trust him at all.

They had a nice dinner of spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad. Sam and Dean helped Ryan clear the table once they were done eating and then they were all sent to the living room to watch a movie. Ryan didn't want to watch a movie, so he went to take a shower. Jake went into his office, claiming that he had some work to do and Sarah finished cleaning the kitchen before going to put Charlotte to bed.

Sam and Dean sat on the couch next to each other, a blanket thrown over their legs. They had just started watching one of Sam's favorite movies- Back to the Future- when Ryan suddenly came in and walked over to the VCR. Sam and Dean watched as he stopped the movie and took it out.

"Hey, we were watching that!" Sam said loudly.

"Well, I don't wanna watch it. It's a stupid movie!"

"No, it's not!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, it is! And this is my house! I get to pick what movie we watch," Ryan yelled back.

"Put it back in, Ryan," Dean said coldly as he glared at the boy.

"No. I told you I don't wanna watch it."

"Well, Sam wants to watch it, so put it back in."

"I don't care what _baby_ Sam wants to watch. And you can't make me put it back in. This isn't your house."

By this time, Dean had had enough of Ryan's stupidity. He was tired and truth be told, he really wasn't feeling very good. All he wanted to do was sit down and watch a movie with his brother. He didn't want to put up with Ryan's arrogance anymore and he definitely wasn't going to let him call his brother names.

Standing up, Dean immediately walked over to Ryan and grabbed the VHS out of his hand. "I said put it back in," he growled. Ryan reached for the tape, but Dean held it out of his reach. He turned to put it back in the VCR when he suddenly was shoved from behind by Ryan. He stumbled a few steps, but quickly regained his balance and without a single second's hesitation, Dean turned and surged forward. Before Ryan had any idea what was happening, they were both suddenly on the floor, rolling around in a mass of arms and legs. Several punches were thrown, as well, and Dean was pretty sure that he'd landed a few good ones.

Sam was off the couch, too, and was yelling at Dean to stop, but Dean wasn't listening. He was too intent on getting the upper hand in the wrestling match and it didn't take him long to claim his dominance over the slightly smaller, untrained kid. All in all, the whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.

With both Sam and Ryan yelling at Dean, it didn't take long for Jake and Sarah to come running. They entered the living room just as Dean claimed his control over Ryan and just seconds later, Dean found himself being lifted off of the kid.

"What's going on in here?" Jake thundered as he held Dean around the waist. Sarah was helping a now crying Ryan up off the floor.

"He attacked me!" Ryan cried as he held onto his mom.

"I did not!" Dean yelled back.

"He did, Mom! He pushed me down on the floor."

Jake and Sarah exchanged a look, wondering how they were going to get to the bottom of the situation. Jake sat Dean back down on the floor, but kept holding onto his arm. Dean struggled to get away, but realized that Jake wasn't going to let go of him. Once he realized that, he stopped struggling.

"Dean, take a seat next to Sam," Jake said. "Ryan, take a seat in the chair."

Both boys sat down where they were told. Sam immediately moved closer to his brother.

"Are either of you hurt anywhere?" Sarah asked as she looked them both over closely. Both Dean and Ryan shook their heads, neither wanting to admit to the various pains they were feeling. After establishing that neither of them were bleeding, Sarah turned back to Jake.

Looking at all three of the boys, Jake decided to start by asking the one kid that hadn't been brawling what had happened. "Sam? Do you think you can tell me what happened?" he said, trying to keep his voice as non-threatening as possible.

Sam looked over at Dean, who gave him a slight nod of the head, before turning back to Jake. "Me and Dean were watching a movie," he said quietly. "And then Ryan came in and stopped the movie. I told him we were watching it and he said he didn't want to watch it and that it was a stupid movie. But, it's not! It's a good movie about time-travel. It's got a really cool car in it that takes Marty back to the future!"

"Sam…." Dean interrupted, trying to get his brother back on track.

"It's not a stupid movie, Dean," Sam said.

"What happened next, Sam?" Sarah asked gently.

"Um…. Dean, uh… Dean told Ryan to put the movie back in, but Ryan didn't. Then he pushed him."

"Dean pushed Ryan?" Jake asked, slightly confused by Sam's rambling answer.

"No, Ryan pushed Dean."

"I did not!" Ryan yelled.

"Yes, you did! I saw it!"

"Okay, calm down," Jake said as he looked at both Sam and Ryan. "And then?"

"Then Dean, um…. he….."

"I pushed him down to the floor," Dean said tersely. "I just wanted him to put the stupid movie back in."

"It's not a stupid movie, Dean!" Sam cried.

"I didn't mean it like that, Sam," Dean tried to explain.

Jake turned his attention to his son. "Ryan? Do you have anything to add? Or anything to say?"

Ryan shook his head, not looking directly at anyone.

"So, is that how it all unfolded then?" Jake asked as he looked at all three boys.

"Yeah," Sam answered, followed immediately by Dean's, "Yes, sir." They all looked to Ryan, who was looking particularly miserable. Eventually, he nodded his head yes.

"Okay, then…. Ryan, I think it's time you went to bed. I'll be there to talk to you soon," Jake said. Ryan threw a glare at Dean, but stood up and walked out of the room. Jake turned back to the two remaining boys on the couch. "Sam? Why don't you go with Sarah and get ready for bed, too. I'm going to talk to Dean for a few minutes."

"I wanna stay with Dean," Sam said.

"It's okay, Sammy. Just go with Sarah, okay? I'll be there in a minute." Dean gave his brother his most encouraging look, even though he was feeling a little scared himself. He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't know what to expect from Jake. If he was facing his father, he knew exactly what to expect, but this time he didn't.

Once everyone was gone, leaving Jake and Dean in the room alone, Jake sat down in the chair across from Dean. He could tell that the boy was nervous and he hated that he was making him feel that way. Not wanting to drag the situation out any longer, he immediately got to it.

"Dean, I know you didn't set out to get into a fight with Ryan, but I need you to know that we don't allow such behavior in this house. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered miserably.

"Was Sam's explanation pretty accurate? Was Ryan the one that started this?

"Yes, sir."

"And he pushed you first?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who threw the first punch?" Jake asked. He wasn't really expecting Dean's answer.

"I did."

"You did….."

"Yes, sir."

Dean stared down at the floor, waiting for Jake to say something. He was surprised by what the man said next.

"I'd like to say thank you for being honest with me about what happened, Dean. I know that can sometimes be a hard thing to do, especially when you're scared."

"I'm not scared," Dean answered immediately, holding his chin up as he looked at Jake.

"Okay, well thank you anyway. And I'd like to apologize for Ryan. He'll be giving you his own apology, too, but…. Well, I thought maybe I could let you in on a little something. Ryan's a good kid, but I think he gets a little overwhelmed when we bring new kids into the house. It isn't easy on him to suddenly have to share his house and his parents and he sometimes gets a little angry. And maybe just a little territorial. He just usually needs a little time to get used to the idea. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. He really could understand, especially the whole jealousy thing. He remembered feeling that way whenever his brother made some friends at school. He really didn't want to have to share Sammy with anyone.

"Now, don't think I'm excusing Ryan's behavior, because I'm not. Ryan's going to be punished for his part in this mess. I'm just trying to explain it a bit."

Dean wondered just what kind of punishment Jake was going to mete out to Ryan. _And would he get the same?_ He suddenly found himself staring nervously back at the floor.

"Dean, why don't you explain to me why you reacted the way you did? Think you can do that?"

Dean didn't say anything for several minutes. Eventually, though, he found the words he was looking for. "Because of Sam," he finally answered.

"What about Sam?" Jake pushed.

"He's…. he's scared, you know? Of everything that's happened. First, that thing in the park. Then, getting picked up by the cops. And now we're here….. in a strange place….with people we don't know. Then there was the storm. Sammy hates storms. And…"

"And what, Dean?"

"And….. he misses our dad."

"I bet he does."

"Whenever Sammy gets scared, I do some things to make him not as scared. I tell him a story. We read a book. Or we watch Back to the Future. It's his favorite movie and it helps him to not be scared….. We just wanted to watch the movie. That's all."

Jake's heart nearly broke at Dean's words. "I'm sorry, then. That Sam didn't get to watch his movie. I bet if Ryan knew that, he wouldn't have done what he did. But, that doesn't change things, does it? He did do what he did. And you did what you did. Both of you made some poor decisions tonight, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. Really."

Jake stood up, rubbing his hands together as he paced the small room. He was in a very delicate situation and was trying to figure out how to handle it without causing any emotional damage to the boy sitting in front of him. "Okay, well…. like I said Ryan is going to be punished for his part in this. And I think it's only fair that you are, too, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. So, tomorrow you and Ryan are going to be doing some extra chores around the house. I have a shed in the back yard that is in desperate need of being cleaned out. I think that sounds like a fitting punishment. And I think you both owe each other an apology, okay?"

"Okay," Dean answered, relieved at his proposed sentence. He didn't mind cleaning at all, so it hardly seemed like a punishment to him. He did hate the thought of apologizing to Ryan, but he'd do it if he had to.

"Okay. Go on to bed then, okay?"

Dean immediately stood up and walked towards the room he was sharing with Sam. He was almost out of the room when he heard Jake say goodnight to him.

"Goodnight, sir," he answered softly.

* * *

Sarah met Dean in the hallway to give him another quick once over, making sure that he wasn't hurt. After a quick goodnight from her, Dean stepped into the bedroom and shut the door. Sam was already in his pajamas and in bed, but had obviously been nervously waiting for him.

"Are you okay?" he asked immediately.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean tried to reassure his little brother.

"What happened? I didn't hear any yelling or smacking."

"That's because there wasn't any," Dean laughed.

"Really? So you're not in trouble?" Sam couldn't believe that his brother could get in a fight and not get into trouble for it.

"No, I'm in trouble, Sammy. Just not the yelling and smacking kind of trouble. I have to do some extra chores tomorrow. And apologize to Ryan."

"That's it?"

"I have to apologize to Ryan, Sammy. I think that's enough, don't you?"

Sam laughed at Dean's whine. "Nah…. Apologizing's easy, Dean. You don't really have to mean it when you do it."

Dean smiled at his brother. "I know, twerp. I apologize to you all the time and I _never_ mean it."

"Hey! That's not funny."

"Sure it is!"

"You're a jerk," Sam said, but Dean knew he didn't really mean it.

Dean dug around in his new clothes for the pajamas Sarah had bought him earlier and then headed for the bathroom. "I'll be right back, Sam," he said.

Ten minutes later, he returned to the room. Sam could tell that he was holding something behind his back.

"What do you have?" he asked.

Dean brought his hands around to the front and Sam could see that he was holding several cookies in one hand and a container of salt in the other. Dean stuffed one of the cookies in his mouth and then handed the other two to Sam. Once Sam was happily munching on the cookie, Dean took the container of salt and started salting the door and window. Once he was done, he climbed into the bed next to his brother.

"Will you tell me a story, Dean?" Sam asked with his mouth full of cookie.

"Okay. Do you want to hear a story about a mouse that floated across a sea of milk on a cookie or about a lion that wanted a tutu for his birthday?"

"The lion that wanted a tutu!" Sam yelled, spraying cooking crumbs right into his brother's face.

"Sam…." Dean groaned.

Sam swallowed the cookies and then smiled up at his brother. "Sorry, Dean."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the chocolatey grin on his brother's face. He didn't know when their dad was going to come and get them, but he had a feeling that they would be okay right where they were until he did.

* * *

Author's note: I sure do hope you enjoy this chapter. It turned out a little longer than I thought it was going to. And I didn't leave you hanging on a cliff this time, lol.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. And I'll try to reply to reviews soon. It's almost five a.m. and I really need to go to bed. ;)


	44. Stranger Things

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 44

Stranger Things

* * *

Sarah and Jake were brought out of their peaceful slumber again on the second night, but this time it was both Sam's and Dean's screams that were coming from down the hall. Once again, they ran out of the room, Sarah stopping to check on their own kids, while Jake made his way to the room Sam and Dean were sharing. He quickly threw open the door and was surprised to see Dean standing up on the bed, holding the knife out in front of him. Sam was curled up in the corner of the bed, knees drawn up to his chest, his eyes wide with fear. Dean's eyes were wide with fear, too, but his body was taut and ready for whatever he thought was coming for them.

Jake ran over to the bed and tried to grab the knife from Dean, but Dean pulled it away first. "Dean! What are you doing?!" Jake yelled. He was afraid that Dean would lose his balance on the bed and fall with the knife in his hand. "Dean, give me the knife!"

Dean, who up until that point hadn't even looked at Jake, finally turned his gaze to the man. Jake could tell that the kid was still hyper-focused on something, but he had no idea what it was. He took a look around the room, but didn't see anything unusual or abnormal. Whatever had caused the boys to freak out must have seemed awfully real to them, though, judging by the looks on their faces.

Jake noticed that Dean relaxed slightly after looking around the room again, so he stepped forward a little more. "Dean, please give me the knife." Dean didn't hand the knife over, but he didn't pull it away either when Jake reached for it. Once he had it in his hand, Jake walked over and sat it down on the desk.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked as calmly as he could. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and for the first time since Sam and Dean had arrived in their house, he wondered if they were in over their heads with these two boys.

Dean, who _finally_ appeared to be completely present in the moment, immediately looked down at Sam to make sure he was okay. Once he was satisfied with what he saw, he sat down on the bed.

"There was something here. In our room."

"Dean….. I think you must have had a bad dream or something. Maybe you saw a shadow?"

Dean wanted to tell the man that yes, he did see a shadow, only that shadow was something monstrous and evil and not just a normal, everyday shadow. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did.

"It wasn't just a shadow. Sam saw it, too, didn't you Sam?"

Sam nodded his head, his eyes still wide and bright.

"But there's nothing here, Dean. I came running as fast as I could and nothing passed me in the hall. And the window is still closed and locked. If there was something here, how did it get out?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, but he wasn't giving up. "But there was something here, sir. I swear!"

Jake walked around the room again, checking in the closets and even under the bed. Of course, he didn't find anyone or anything lurking anywhere. But what he did find was a line of what looked like salt lining the window frame, the bed, and the door. He hadn't noticed it when he ran into the room, but the line of salt had been disturbed by his feet. _Why in the world would anyone lay down lines of salt like that_ , he wondered.

"I don't see anything," Jake finally said. "Why don't you tell me what happened. What did you see?"

Dean moved over to sit at the top of the bed next to Sam. He pulled the blanket up around Sam's chest and then put his arm around Sam's shoulder. Jake could see that Sam almost immediately relaxed once that happened and it made his heart hurt for some reason. Before he could think any more on _why_ that made him sad, Dean started to explain what they'd seen.

"We were sleeping, but I heard something. Sam heard it, too, because he woke up at the same time I did. It was really dark, but I saw something moving over by the closet. And it was making a really weird sound, like a clicking noise followed by a hiss. It looked kinda small at first, but then it got really big and it started moving towards us."

Jake's brain was trying to tell him that the boys had been dreaming, but his gut was telling him something different. And he didn't know what to do about it. He wanted to believe that Dean was telling the truth, but it didn't make sense. In the short time between the boys waking up screaming and the short time it took him to run to the room, the thing- or whatever it was- didn't have time to escape any other way than the window. And the window was closed and locked.

"What happened then? It came towards you, but what happened?"

"I-I don't know," Dean answered shakily. "It was coming at us kinda fast, but then it just stopped. Maybe it was the s-salt lines or something."

Jake looked down and noticed the salt that was spread around the bed, too. "Speaking of that…. Why _is_ there salt on the floor, Dean?" he asked quietly, hoping that the near-hysteria he had been feeling since seeing Dean standing on the bed, brandishing a knife, was fading enough to not cause trouble.

Dean didn't answer right away, so Jake was surprised when it was Sam that answered the question.

"It's for protection. Right, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Daddy says that salt is pure and will protect us from bad stuff. I guess he means like bad men and mean people, don't you, Dean?"

Dean, of course, knew exactly why they put down the salt-lines, but he couldn't say anything in front of Jake. Or Sammy, either!

"Yeah," is all he said.

"Well, there's nothing here now, but maybe I should call the cops. They could take a look around the neighborhood, just in case."

"No! You're probably right. It was probably just a dream." Dean started to backtrack, knowing that there wasn't any use in getting the police involved. Even if they did find something, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it. "We'll just….. uh, we'll just go back to sleep, right, Sammy?"

"I don't want to," Sam answered. "I'm scared, Dean."

"It's okay, Sammy. There's nothing to be scared of. Mr. Fuller checked the room. There's nothing here."

Sam didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue, either. Dean knew it was because he didn't want to look like a coward in front of him or Jake. "Thanks for coming and making sure we were okay, sir."

"Are you sure you're ready to go back to sleep?" Jake didn't look convinced that he should leave the room just yet, but Dean quickly reassured him again that they were okay. "Alright… well…. I guess I'll go back to bed, then. I'm right down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

"Thank you, sir," Dean answered. Jake watched as Dean pulled the blankets back and waited for Sam to crawl under them. Once Sam was settled, Dean started to get under the covers, too, but he stopped. "Mr. Fuller? Can I have my knife back?"

"I don't think so, Dean. I think I'll hold onto it for now. You're a little too young to have a knife like that, don't you think?"

"My dad gave me that knife. To protect Sam. He doesn't think I'm too young."

Jake had a lot to say about that, but he kept his mouth shut. In his opinion, Dean was way too young to be in the possession of such a knife. As far as Jake was concerned, he was way too young to be left alone and responsible for his little brother, too. Dean and Ryan were roughly the same age and Jake would never consider leaving Ryan alone for any length of time at all. As far as he was concerned, that was just downright bad parenting.

Dean's angry voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "You can't take it from me. It's mine."

"My house, my rules, Dean. I'm not comfortable with you having this in your possession. And there's no reason for it, anyway. You're both safe here."

Dean wanted to argue, but he knew there was no point. The man was determined to keep the knife, so Dean figured he'd just have to wait and look for it tomorrow, once Jake left for work. He was pretty sure that whatever was in their room earlier wouldn't be making another appearance tonight. At least, he hoped it wouldn't.

Once Jake was sure Dean was going to accept his decision on the knife, he told them goodnight and turned off the light. He could hear immediate whispering coming from the bed, but he just closed the door and returned to his bed. _Maybe, just maybe, they'd bitten off more than they could chew with the Winchester brothers._

* * *

Bobby spent the whole next day working on getting the appropriate documents to regain custody of Sam and Dean. He had contacts all over the United States to help him with such things, but it still took a fair amount of time. And a lot of phone calls and calling in favors. John Winchester often left a bad taste in other hunter's mouths, so Bobby made sure to leave the fact that he was trying to help the man's sons out of the picture. The less they knew, the better, in this situation.

While he was working on getting the documentation he needed, he was also working on trying to figure out what had happened to the Winchester patriarch. Jim and Caleb were searching for him, too, checking every emergency room in the path that John would have been on. There was a surprisingly large number of males that fit John's description in the hospitals they'd checked so far, and since they didn't know what alias he was using, they had to painstakingly check out each individual patient. It was time-consuming, but it had to be done.

Bobby also spent some time trying to hack into the database of the foster care system. Of course, he wasn't trying to do it himself, but he had someone else working on it. He wasn't much one for all the new-age computer crap that was becoming so popular, but he wasn't one who was afraid to ask for help, either. So, with someone checking on that, someone looking for John Winchester, and someone working on the documentation he needed to gain custody of the Winchester brothers, Bobby had very little more to do than sit and worry about Sam and Dean.

And worry he did.

* * *

John woke up again to a cacophony of sounds that set his teeth on edge. He didn't know it, but he was the reason behind all those sounds. His heart was beating a little too fast and his blood pressure was a little too high. And apparently, his breathing was too shallow and too fast, as well.

All in all, every single part of him was "too something" and he didn't understand it.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he was reminded of the fact that there was someplace he was supposed to be. Some place of great importance. There was something he was supposed to be doing, but he had no idea what it was. He was confused and disoriented and his brain felt like he was slogging through a great, dense fog. He couldn't see or think clearly and that only added to his already ramped up agitation and anxiety. More than anything, he wanted to leave, but he couldn't. He barely had enough strength to lift his arms up and when he did, he realized that they were strapped down to the bed. _"What the hell?!"_ he thought.

He spent the next several minutes looking around wildly, his eyes landing on different spots in the room. They finally landed on a window and although the curtains were closed, he could just barely make out what he was sure was sunlight.

So, at least he knew it was day time.

He fought to stay awake, but within minutes he had fallen back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, his head felt a little clearer. He still wasn't sure where he was, but he remembered that he had been on his way back to Sam and Dean when his car collided with a deer. He remembered careening off the road and down the embankment. And he remembered smacking his head violently against the windshield when the Impala came to a stop against the base of a large tree.

As he fought to stay awake this time, he looked around the room again, trying to see if anything had changed since the last time. Eventually, when he tired of looking around, John made himself close his eyes and take in several deep breaths. It wasn't easy since there was a tube down his throat that made it feel like he was breathing through a straw. That, coupled with the fact that the ventilator machine was trying to give him breaths on top of the ones he was already trying to take himself, made for some very uncomfortable breathing.

Because of his irregular breathing pattern, the ventilator alarmed every few seconds and it wasn't too long before someone came into his room.

"Well, hello there," he heard someone say in a completely weird and out of place tone of voice. Whoever it was seemed to be way too cheery for whatever was going on in his room. Of course, he had no way of talking to whoever it was since he had a tube down his throat, but if he could he'd probably tell her to shut up.

With nothing else to do, John watched her as she moved about his room. She talked to him the whole time, telling him what she was doing each step of the way and having him do little things when she asked him to. After moving all of his extremities to her command and nodding his head yes or no to her questions, she finally deemed that he was awake and alert enough to notify the doctor.

By the time the doctor showed up, John was more than ready to rip the tube out of his throat, despite what the doctor wanted. Luckily, the doctor thought that he was ready to be extubated and just five minutes later, John was free of the tube and was sporting a nasal cannula in his nose. He couldn't believe how incredibly weak he was, but he vowed not to just lay in the bed like a lump of coal. _He had things to do._

The doctor and nurse were both taken by surprise when he suddenly threw his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand up. "Wait! Wait, Mr. Bryson. You're not quite ready to get out of bed yet."

John didn't care what the man was saying. He wasn't really sure how long he'd been down. All he knew was that he really needed to get to his boys. He had no idea where they were or what was happening to them and it scared him senseless.

"Let me up," he growled as he tried to pull his arm out of the doctor's grasp. "I need to go!"

"Mr. Bryson, you've been in a pretty bad accident. You almost died."

"I don't care! Let me up."

"Mr. Bryson, if you try to get up, you're going to fall. Your knee jammed into the dashboard of your car and it's swollen and bruised. You shouldn't be bearing weight on it yet."

John suddenly felt light-headed and he couldn't do anything but fall back into the bed. He closed his eyes as he tried to wait out the spinning of the room. It took several minutes, but eventually he felt like the spinning had stopped.

"I need to get home. I need to get to my kids." John looked up at the nurse and the doctor, trying to get them to understand how desperate he was.

"I can imagine there are people out there who are looking for you, Mr. Bryson. Your phone was found in the wreckage of the car, but it was significantly damaged. We weren't able to get any information from it. We were waiting for you to wake up, hoping you'd be able to tell us who to call."

John tried to slow his thoughts down long enough to come up with a phone number for them to call. After a few minutes, he remembered that he had a card from the motel they'd been staying at in his wallet, and just seconds later, the nurse was helping him make the call. He waited with bated breath for Dean to pick up and then remembered that he didn't do the secret ring that the boy would be expecting. With the doctor and nurse both looking at him strangely, he dialed the phone again, hung up after the first ring and then dialed it again.

When the phone went unanswered again, he suddenly felt like crying.

* * *

Dean slept very little the rest of the night and when he woke up the next morning, he had a headache that was threatening to make him throw up. Sam was still asleep when Dean finally pulled himself out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before everything in his stomach fought its way out, leaving him pale and shaky. His eyes blurred with tears and he found himself gasping for breath.

As he sat on the floor, hugging the toilet with both hands, he allowed the tears to fall unchecked for a change. He was feeling rather sorry for himself, truth be told, but he didn't care. He wanted his dad. He wanted to go home, or at least back to the motel they'd been staying in. He wanted to take away Sam's fear and make him feel safe again. He wanted his knife back. And he wanted his headache to go away. For once in his life, he just wanted _something_ to go right.

Dean had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, so he was surprised when there was a soft knock at the door. He wasn't sure if he had the strength to get up at the moment, so he just stayed on the floor and waited. It wasn't long before he heard a voice calling out to him.

"Dean? Are you okay? Sam said he thought he heard you throwing up."

Dean was relieved, but also a little embarrassed to hear Sarah's voice coming from the other side. Still not feeling like he could get up off of the floor, he finally gathered enough strength to at least answer her. "I'm okay," he answered weakly. "I'm fine."

"Dean, I can help you, sweetie, if you're not feeling well. Can you open the door?"

Before he could answer, Dean started throwing up again and this time it felt like he wasn't ever going to stop. By the time he did finally stop, his stomach was hurting, his head was pounding, and his throat was raw and burning from the bile he'd finally thrown up. He felt weaker than he could ever remember feeling and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry himself to sleep.

It was almost five more minutes of him lying there and Sarah calling through the door before he could pull himself up and open the door. The minute the door opened, Sarah stepped in and knelt down next to Dean, who was once more hugging the toilet.

"Hey, there, kiddo. How are you doing?"

Dean didn't answer, but he looked up at Sarah pitifully. She wanted so badly to pull him into her arms and Dean wanted so badly to be pulled into her arms, but neither one of them acted on their wants. Instead, Sarah gently rubbed his back and Dean let her. Eventually, she stood up and grabbed a wash cloth. She ran it under cool water before placing it on the back of Dean's neck. Dean immediately relaxed backwards a little, taking comfort from the feeling of the cool cloth on his flushed skin.

"Feel like standing up yet?" Sarah continued to rub Dean's back while he tried to formulate his answer. When he nodded his head, she stood up and grabbed him gently by the arm. "Okay. What do you say we try to stand up? Nice and slow, okay?"

Dean got his feet under him and allowed Sarah to slowly pull him up. His head was spinning, but once he was up, he felt a little better. Sarah gently led him out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom, where Sam was impatiently waiting.

"Dean! Are you okay? What's wrong?" Sam jumped off of the bed and immediately ran over to his brother.

"I'm okay, Sammy."

Sam moved out of the way to let Sarah lead his brother over to the bed and seconds later, Dean was curled up on his side, his body sinking completely into the bed. Once he was settled, Sam moved closer to him and Sarah pulled the blankets up around him, trying to make him as comfortable as she could. "Why don't you close your eyes and rest for a little while, Dean? I'll bring you up some medicine."

Dean didn't waste any time in closing his eyes.

* * *

It was almost three in the afternoon when he woke again. Sarah had brought him medicine earlier and he had fallen asleep just minutes later. Unbeknownst to him, Sam sat by his bedside for almost an hour before finally leaving and joining the Fuller family in the kitchen, but he was alone when he woke up.

He sat there for a full five minutes before moving, as he did a quick inventory of how he was feeling. His head was still hurting, but he was happy to find that he wasn't feeling nauseous anymore. He did, however, feel really, really cold.

So cold, in fact, that he could see his breath hanging in the air in front of him. It didn't take Dean longer than just a few seconds to realize that that wasn't normal. Dean immediately groped under his pillow for his knife- which happened to have an iron handle- but then remembered that Jake had confiscated it the night before. Once he realized he was weaponless, he pulled himself up and looked around the room.

It wasn't until his eyes landed on the corner of the room by the closet that he saw it. In fact, his eyes went past it the first time, but quickly moved back to it when he realized what he'd seen. He couldn't really describe what he was seeing, just that it wasn't quite a shadow and wasn't quite a solid being. If he absolutely _had_ to put a word to it, he'd have to say that it was a shimmer. Or maybe a glimmer was a better way of describing it.

He didn't know how he knew, but he could tell that the thing… or being….or whatever it was… was watching him. He felt a sudden desire to jump off the bed and run out of the room, but he couldn't seem to get any part of him to move. Instead, he sat frozen on the bed, his eyes never leaving the corner, as his mind sped through all the different things he could or should do.

It seemed like hours had passed since he'd first noticed the other occupant in the room, but he knew it really hadn't been that long. Minutes, at the most. But, he knew that he couldn't just sit there on the bed forever. He needed to make a move and he needed to do it soon.

He had weighed all of his options just like his dad, Pastor Jim, and Uncle Bobby had taught him, but just as a plan was starting to form in his brain, something happened that changed everything….. the door opened and Sam walked into the room.

* * *

Author's note: I'm going to start by apologizing for the long wait. Those of you who are reading my other stories probably already know that my youngest son wrecked his car and then a week later had an emergency appendectomy. He's doing great now, just so you know. But, this past weekend, my mother had a little accident and ended up with a concussion and a cervical strain. Needless to say, I've been taking care of her, which has left very little time for writing. She's doing better now, too, so I can hopefully get back to a more regular update schedule.

Anyway, enough of my family problems, lol. Thank you all so much for your continued support of this story. I truly appreciate every single one of you, just so you know. And I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	45. The Family Business

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 45

The Family Business

* * *

Sam stepped into the room, his eyes immediately turning to the bed where his brother was. He was surprised to see Dean sitting up in the bed. "Dean! You're awake! Sarah told me not to bug you, but I wanted to see if you were okay. Dean?" It took him a few seconds to realize that other than a quick glance his way, Dean was focused on something in the corner of the room.

"Sammy! Get out of here," Dean finally whispered desperately.

"Why? What's wrong?" Sam looked over to the corner, trying to figure out what had Dean so freaked out.

"Just go! NOW, Sam!"

To Dean's surprise, Sam turned and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Dean's attention immediately turned back to the corner and he was surprised to see that the….thing…. had moved out of the corner and over to the bed. With it being only a foot away from him, Dean was thankful for the ring of salt that still outlined his bed.

His heart was pounding painfully in his chest and his hand was cramping from the grip he had on the iron-handled knife. He didn't realize it at first- and it wasn't until his chest started burning that he _did_ realize it- but he was holding his breath.

He let his breath out slowly, trying not to move too much, as he stared at the….thing…. in front of him. The thing seemed to be staring right back at him. While he couldn't really make out any definitive features, Dean thought that he could maybe separate what looked to be the face of the…. thing… from the rest of the shape. And tired of thinking of it as a _thing,_ he decided to just call it an entity. He'd recently learned that from Pastor Jim and thought it sounded cool.

Not really knowing what to do, Dean decided to wait it out for as long as he could. As he waited, he held the knife out in front of him and hoped that the entity was vulnerable to iron like a ghost was. If not…. well, he had no idea what to do next.

After sitting there for what seemed like hours with neither him nor the entity moving, Dean finally saw it move. Luckily, it seemed to move away from the bed and over to the table where some of Ryan's model cars were. Dean found out the first night he was there that Ryan and his dad had a hobby of building the model cars and he had been jealous, wishing that he and his dad could have had a simple hobby like that. One that didn't involve monsters and guns and knives.

Once again, Dean held his breath while he watched the entity to see what it was going to do. To his surprise, it somehow managed to pick up one of the model cars and seemed to be looking at it. Dean felt a sudden sense of longing fill him and he wondered if the entity was somehow able to project its feelings onto someone.

He never really had a chance to find out anything more, though, because suddenly the sound of steps thundering up the stairs sounded and the entity disappeared, leaving the model car in a shattered heap on the floor by the bed. Dean hadn't even had time to move when the door flew open and Jake Fuller flew into the room, followed by Sarah.

"Dean? What's going on?! Sam said you were scared and that someone was in the room with you?" Jake and Sarah looked wildly around the room, relieved to see that no one else was there. When Dean didn't answer, they turned their attention back to him. Jake's eyes quickly took in the shattered model car on the floor and he couldn't keep from feeling angry. "What did you do?" he asked heatedly as he motioned to the mess. "Why would you do that, Dean?"

Dean followed his gaze to the shattered pieces and then looked quickly back to the two adults. "I-I didn't do that, I swear," he answered weakly, knowing that it sounded dumb, even to his own ears.

"Dean, it's okay…" Sarah started, but was quickly stopped by Jake.

"No, Sarah, it's not okay. That belonged to Ryan and Dean had no right to ruin it."

"Jake…."

"What's going on, Dean?" Jake said, not letting Sarah finish what she was going to say.

"It wasn't me, Mr. Fuller. I swear. There was something in here and it picked up the car. It dropped it when it heard you coming up the stairs."

Jake looked around the room again as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. "There's nothing here, Dean. So, no more lies, okay? I'm tired of it."

Dean wanted to scream at the man, but knew that wouldn't solve anything. He knew Jake couldn't be expected to understand that there was some sort of supernatural thing in his house, really. _Who would believe that without seeing it for themselves?_

"Mr. Fuller, I swear. I didn't do it. There really was something in the room, just like last night. I don't know what it is, but it's the one that broke the car. Not me." Dean could feel his head pounding again and he suddenly felt his stomach cramping. Without another word, he jumped out of the bed and made it to the small trash can just in time to throw up. Sarah immediately went to him, rubbing his back as he expelled every single thing left in his stomach.

Once he was done, Sarah helped him up, noticing how shaky his legs were. She also noticed that he had thrown up a little on himself. "Think you can walk to the bathroom, Dean? Maybe clean yourself up a little?"

Dean nodded his head miserably and allowed Sarah to lead him out of the bedroom. Sarah quickly tasked Jake with cleaning up the mess in the room and Sam with grabbing some clean clothes for his brother. Once that was done, she led Dean to the bathroom and started the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water to a comfortable degree. Once that was done, she grabbed a towel for him and placed it on the towel rack. "Think you can handle this on your own?" she asked. "If not, Jake can help you."

Dean didn't want to face Jake again at the moment, so he assured her that he could handle it. He wasn't so sure, though, a minute later when he tried to climb into the shower. The weakness he was feeling nearly overwhelmed him for a few minutes, but he was eventually able to move himself into the shower, and once the warm water was flowing over him, he allowed the tears he'd been holding back to finally fall.

He had no idea what was going on and he had no idea how to deal with it. All he really knew was that he needed his dad more than ever.

* * *

After he was done showering, Dean slowly dressed himself and made his way downstairs. He had no desire to face Jake again, but he had no desire to go back into the bedroom, either. _It was definitely a lose-lose situation for one Dean Winchester and he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for himself_.

Once he was downstairs, he followed the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. As he passed the living room, he saw Sam sitting on the couch, watching Back to the Future, seemingly oblivious to everything going on around him. He noticed that his brother looked sad, though, and he was just about to join him on the couch when he heard his name being said in the kitchen.

Quickly making up his mind, he headed towards the kitchen, hoping to find out something useful from the conversation that was being held. He stopped just outside of the doorway, making sure that the occupants of the kitchen couldn't see him.

"We can't just let it slide, Sarah," Jake was saying as he paced the small kitchen. "We have to make sure he knows that he can't behave like that."

"But what if he didn't do it, Jake?"

"Who else would've done it?! He was all alone in that room, Sarah."

"It just doesn't seem like something he would do, I guess. He's been so polite and obedient since he's been here."

"He punched Ryan, Sarah. Or did you already forget that?"

"Of course, I didn't forget that. But he was just looking out for his brother and we established that Ryan was the one that started that whole debacle, remember? Jake, Sam and Dean are scared and nervous. They've been taken out of their environment and thrown into something unfamiliar and scary. But, they're good boys."

"I'm not saying they're not, hon. I think those boys have been dealt a crappy hand and I feel bad for them. But, we can't just let them run roughshod over us. We have to set boundaries and rules and there has to be consequences."

Sarah, who was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea, was quiet for several seconds. "You're right, Jake. Of course, you're right. But, I'm still not sure he did it."

Jake threw his hands up in exasperation, but Sarah quickly continued.

"Remember when we first moved in here? Remember when Ryan used to say that there was something in his closet? And how he kept blaming little things on the thing in the closet? What if there really is something in there?"

"That's ridiculous. You don't actually believe that, do you? That was years ago, Sarah. Ryan was just a five year old kid with an active imagination."

"Jake, just hear me out, okay? I know you don't believe in ghosts or anything like that, but I do."

"Oh, so what? This is like that thing that happened at your grandmother's when she died?"

"Yes, it is! I know you don't believe me, but I saw her, Jake. Three days after she died, I saw her. She wanted me to know that she was okay and that she loved me. I didn't imagine that. And remember how cold the room was that night? Tell me you didn't just feel that upstairs, too."

"This is crazy, Sarah. Normal people just don't believe in this stuff. It wasn't a ghost, okay? It was just a screwed up kid lashing out at a situation he has no control over. That's all. He's just trying to get attention."

"Don't be stupid!" Sarah suddenly stood up and glared at her husband. "The last thing that kid is looking for is attention. He barely takes his eyes off of his brother and he doesn't ever ask for anything for himself. He tries to lay as low as possible. Surely you can see that, Jake? Just open your mind for one damn second, okay?"

Dean was surprised to see Sarah get so worked up. He hated that they were fighting, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Sneaking a glance around the door frame, he watched as Jake continued to pace in the kitchen and Sarah continued to glare at him.

"Well, you have your theories and I have mine, I guess," Jake continued. "We've dealt with this sort of thing before, Sarah. These kids we take in are fragile and volatile. They're hard to figure out, especially in the short amount of time we usually have them. I'm not blaming Dean for what happened, because I know he's not doing it just to act out. He's confused and hurt and scared. I know that. But, we can't just let it go without addressing it. There has to be some sort of consequence, don't you think?"

"I've already told you what I think."

"C'mon, Sarah. We have to be a team on this. A united front."

Sarah sat back down at the table and started stirring her tea again. "What should we do, then?" she finally asked.

Dean listened for a few more minutes, anxious to know what his fate was going to be. Once they were done talking about it, he turned and went to join Sam on the couch. His heart hurt with the disappointment of not being believed and his head hurt as he tried to figure out what he was going to do about the situation.

* * *

The boys spent the next few hours on the couch, watching movies. Ryan was staying with his grandparents, much to Dean's relief, so there wasn't anyone to interfere with what they wanted to watch. Dean was feeling a little better and was even feeling a little hungry, so when Sarah called them to the table, he didn't hesitate.

After making sure that Sam was settled in his seat, Dean sat down next to him, eyeing the food closely. He was happy to see that Sarah had made chicken and rice, thinking that that might be easier on his stomach that anything rich or greasy. As his appetite wasn't quite back to normal yet, Dean slowly started eating, taking small bites and chewing them thoroughly before swallowing. He kept his eyes on his plate, but he could tell that Sarah, Jake, and Sam were all watching him carefully.

Eventually, Sam- who couldn't stay quiet for very long usually- started talking to Sarah. Dean listened as Sam explained everything that had happened in Back to the Future and in Back to the Future II. Sarah listened patiently, too, as if she hadn't seen the movies before. By the time Sam was done, Dean found himself smiling and laughing at his brother's energetic re-telling of the story.

Once they were all done eating, Sarah stood up and started clearing the table. Jake stood up, as well, and looked down at Sam. "Hey, Sam…. Could you help Sarah clear off the table? I need to talk to Dean for a minute."

Sam looked over at his brother and when Dean gave him a nod and a wink, he started clearing the table. Dean followed Jake into the living room and once Jake sat down, Dean sat down as far away from the man as he could.

Jake could tell that the boy was nervous, but he was surprised by the look of resignation on Dean's face. He hated seeing that look on a kid Dean's age and hoped he never saw it again, but for some reason, he knew it wouldn't be the last time for Dean.

"We need to talk about what happened," he said as he watched the boy closely. Dean didn't look up at him, so he continued. "Dean, I'm trying to help you here, son."

"I'm not your son," Dean answered.

"You're right. You're not. But right now, you're my responsibility, Dean. I want to help you. And I want you to help me understand." Jake kept his eye on the boy and quickly figured out that he wasn't going to get much from him. "Dean, I need you to be honest with me, okay? Did you throw Ryan's model on the floor?"

"No, sir."

"Dean….."

"I didn't. I swear."

"Okay. Then tell me what happened," Jake said, surprising himself with his willingness to hear Dean out. He had been planning on laying down the hammer right from the beginning.

Dean looked up at Jake, surprised to hear that he actually believed him. Or at least that he was willing to hear his side of the story. "There's something in that room," he said simply.

"What do you mean by _something?_ "

"I think it's a ghost," Dean explained, finding himself holding his breath.

"Dean…"

"I know it sounds crazy, Mr. Fuller, but ghosts are real. We hunt them all the time."

"We?"

"Me and my dad. Well, I've only done it a few times, but my dad hunts them all the time. And other supernatural things, too."

"Other _supernatural_ things?"

"Yeah. Like shapeshifters and black dogs and werewolves."

"Dean, come on…. You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

"It's true. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. And there _is_ something in that room, Mr. Fuller. I saw it!"

Jake was still trying to process the whole supernatural thing, so he didn't answer right away. Eventually, though, he turned his attention back to Dean. "What exactly did you see? Did you see a ghost?"

Dean tried to describe what he saw, but he really didn't know how to. "It wasn't really like the shape of a person. More like the shape of a shape of a person," he tried. "Like the shadow of a shadow." He knew he wasn't making any sense, but he didn't know how else to describe it.

"Okay… anything else?"

"I don't know. I mean it was creepy, but I got the feeling that it didn't want to hurt me. I got the feeling that it was… I don't know…. sad, maybe?"

Jake and Dean sat in silence for several minutes, both trying to wrap their minds around what was going on. Dean knew what needed to be done to put a ghost to rest, but he had no idea who the ghost was. _How did it die? Where was it buried? Was something tying it to the Fuller's house? Was it really even a ghost?_

Jake, on the other hand was wondering if he'd gone crazy. _Was he seriously considering that there was a ghost in his house? Had he lost his mind?_ But Sarah was right. As messed up as Dean's childhood seemed to be- especially now that he knew about the supernatural ghost hunting thing- he really didn't seem like the type of kid that would just destroy things. He really had been fairly obedient since he'd been there. Almost too obedient. Like a Stepford child, or something.

* * *

They were still sitting silently in the room when Sam and Sarah walked in. Sam climbed up next to Dean, looking him over to make sure he was okay.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam snuggled into Dean's side, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. Eventually, when he came to the conclusion that Dean was okay, he turned his eyes onto Jake, looking at him suspiciously.

"Hey, Sam," Jake said with a smile. "I was just talking to Dean about how much fun it would be if you two built a fort and slept down here tonight. Doesn't that sound like fun?" Jake gave Dean a look and was pleased when the boy caught on to his plan.

"Remember when we did that at Uncle Bobby's, Sam? When there was that big storm?"

"Yeah. That was fun. We really get to do that again?"

"Sure!" Jake stood up and patted Dean on the shoulder. "Dean, why don't you come with me and grab the sleeping bags and pillows. Sam, you can find another movie to watch, if you want."

Sam jumped up and ran over to the cabinet of movies while Dean followed Jake out of the room. Once they were far enough away from the living room, Jake turned to face Dean. "I thought it would be a good idea to avoid Ryan's room for now. Until we figure out what's going on." Jake looked around the hallway, running a hand through his hair while he was thinking about everything. "So, if there really is a ghost in this house, what would your father do to take care of it?" he finally asked, disbelief running through him at what he was saying. But nothing made sense at the moment.

"Well, the first thing we always do is research. You know, find out who the ghost is and how it died. Then we have to find out where it's buried."

"Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, knowing how awful the next thing he said was going to sound to Jake. "Um… you have to find the body and salt and burn it," he said quietly.

Jake stared at him, thinking that he'd completely misheard what Dean had said. _Salt and burn the body? What the hell did that mean?!_ "I don't understand," he finally said. "Salt and burn the body? What does that do?"

"It puts the spirit to rest. At least that what Pastor Jim says. The salt purifies the spirit and the fire destroys the bones, allowing the, um…..the spirit to move on."

"So you literally have to do this to the ghost's body? Salt it and burn it?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you've done this before?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir."

"What the hell was your father thinking?! You shouldn't be doing something like that, Dean. You're just a kid."

"I'm not a kid," Dean immediately argued. "And Dad says it's the family business…. Saving people, hunting things. It's what we do."

"That's crazy."

"It's _not_ crazy!"

Jake figured he was fighting a losing battle with Dean. The kid had been brainwashed to think that fighting ghosts was normal and nothing was going to change his mind. But Jake told himself that he wasn't going to let this go. Sam and Dean deserved a better life than the one they were living. And if their father didn't see that, then it was up to him to make sure something was done about it.

Sam and Dean wouldn't be going back to that life. Not if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

Author's note: I'm truly sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Life has been crazy and has left little room for writing. But I finally found a little bit of time. Yay!

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I truly appreciate it.


	46. Leave the Light on

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 46

Leave the Light On

* * *

Sleeping on the floor of the living room wasn't as fun for Dean as it was for Sam. They watched two movies and ate the cookies that Sarah made for them before Sam finally settled down to listen to Dean tell him a story about a sloth that wanted to be a speed skater. Once Sam was asleep, Dean stayed awake, listening to his little brother breathe and staring up at the ceiling as he took note of every creak and groan of the house around him.

He had made sure there was an intact salt ring around their fort and had even talked Jake into making sure that Charlotte slept in their room and that they salted the windows and doors of their bedroom. He didn't know what else he could do to make things safe for them all, so he just stayed awake, contemplating what he should do next and preparing himself for whatever happened.

He knew that what he _should_ do was take Sam out of the Fuller house and get him somewhere safe, but they didn't have anywhere to go. They couldn't go back to their motel room and he knew he couldn't protect Sam out on the streets. He wished more than ever that his dad would come and take care of everything for them, but he had learned a long time ago not to count on that happening. More often than not, Dean was made to take care of things himself.

He knew he wasn't being fair to his dad, because what John Winchester did for the world was important. He just wished that the world's well-being would sometimes take a back seat to the man's own sons.

Eventually, Dean fell asleep, but he slept very lightly. Anytime Sam rolled over or even breathed a little heavier, he woke up, panic shooting through him like a jolt of electricity. Every time the clock in the hallway chimed the hour, he woke up. And every time he felt the slightest stirring in the air around him, he jolted awake.

By the time morning finally arrived, Dean was exhausted and feeling less than okay. Yesterday's bout of sickness left him feeling shaky and weak and he really wasn't sure that he could stomach the breakfast that Sarah was cooking up in the kitchen. The smell of bacon- which was normally one of his favorite smells- was currently making him nauseous and he found himself making a mad dash for the bathroom.

Luckily, he was able to deep breathe through the nausea and after a quick splash of cold water on his face, he returned to the living room. Sam was still fast asleep, so Dean sat down on the couch and turned on the television. He was halfway through an episode of Scooby Doo when the doorbell rang.

He listened for a few seconds as Sarah answered the door. He could hear the faint murmuring of voices, but couldn't make out anything they were saying, so he focused his attention back on the cartoon he was watching. After at least ten minutes, he heard the sounds of the voices getting closer and he quickly turned the TV off.

Sarah and Mrs. Carpenter, the woman who had brought them to the Fuller house, entered the living room, followed closely by another man. Dean's heart jumped in his chest when he realized who it was.

"Uncle Bobby!" he shrieked as he jumped up and into the man's arms. Bobby held onto the boy as tightly as he could for several long seconds.

"Dean! It's good to see you, boy. Are you okay?"

"We're okay, Uncle Bobby. Sam's okay."

Bobby looked him over from head to toe before turning his attention to Sam. They all noticed at the same time that Sam was just starting to wake up.

"Sammy! Look who's here!" Dean exclaimed as he moved over to pull Sam from under the blankets that were piled up on him.

"Uncle Bobby!" Sam shrieked in an even louder voice.

Suddenly, Bobby found himself with an arm load of a very squiggly Sam. "Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, Uncle Bobby. And I really have to go."

"Go?"

Sam squirmed his way out of the man's arms and ran out of the room, leaving them all laughing.

"When you gotta go, you gotta go, I guess," Bobby said with a laugh.

Before anything else could be said about Sam's mad dash to the bathroom, Dean changed the subject. "Uncle Bobby, where's my dad? Have you heard from him? Is he okay?"

Bobby glanced over at the two women standing next to him. They were both looking on in interest. He was just about to answer Dean when Jake suddenly strode into the room, too.

"Yeah, I'd like to know where the man is, too. And why he thought it was okay to leave Sam and Dean alone for so long."

"Jake, let's not talk about that right now."

"No, Sarah. We deserve to know why their father would put them in such a dangerous situation. Sam and Dean could have been hurt."

"I wouldn't let anything hurt Sam," Dean immediately interjected.

"I know you do your best to protect your brother, Dean. But that's not the point. You're just a kid."

"I'm not just a kid," Dean protested. "I've been watching out for Sammy for years and I'm good at it."

"Dean…." Bobby gave him a look that clearly told him to stop talking. Dean suddenly realized what he'd said and wished that he could take it back.

"What do you mean you've been watching out for Sammy for years? Your dad has left you alone like this before?"

Dean wasn't about to say anything else, knowing that he'd already dug himself deep. And he knew that Jake wasn't the type to let something like that go. Trying to move on from what he'd said, he asked Bobby again about his dad.

"We're looking for him, Dean. We'll find him." Bobby didn't miss the way Dean's face paled at his words.

"What if he's hurt somewhere?" Dean asked anxiously. "What if something's got him?"

"What do you mean by _something_ , Dean?" Jake asked.

Bobby looked over at Jake, completely ignoring his question as he answered Dean. "We know that he finished the job he was on and we know that he left the area quickly. There are people checking along the routes he could have taken, just in case he broke down somewhere. And yes, we're checking all the hospitals along the way, too. We'll find him."

Dean still didn't look convinced, but he knew it was pointless to beleaguer the idea. "Are you here to take us home?" he finally asked.

"I am."

"Wait…. What?" Jake looked over at his wife. "He's here to take the boys?"

"He has legal guardianship of Sam and Dean when there dad isn't around, Jake."

"Are you sure? Everything checked out right?"

Mrs. Carpenter stepped forward and handed a packet of papers to Jake. "Everything checks out, Mr. Fuller. Mr. Singer has guardianship in the case of emergency."

Sam had just returned from the bathroom and went to stand next to Bobby. "Can we go home now, Uncle Bobby?"

"As soon as we get you packed up, kid."

"Wait! We can't leave yet!" Dean suddenly yelled, causing everyone to look at him.

"Why not?" Bobby asked.

Dean looked over at Jake and Sarah, threw a quick side glance to Mrs. Carpenter, and then back to Bobby. "There's something I need to do first," he said simply.

Bobby gave him a strange look. "We need to get you boys home, Dean. You have school tomorrow, don't you? And your dad's gonna want you home."

"I can't go, Uncle Bobby. You can take Sammy and come back for me later."

"I'm not leaving you here, boy. You're coming with me, so go pack your stuff up."

Dean stood his ground, arms crossed against his chest, obviously refusing to leave. "No. I'm not leaving."

"This isn't up to you, Dean," Mrs. Carpenter interjected. "Mr. Singer is here to take you and your brother home. You have to go with him."

"He can stay here if he wants to," Jake said quickly.

"Dean….. what is this all about?" Bobby asked, completely ignoring Jake.

Dean's frustration was at an all-time high, but he tried to reign it in. "Can I talk to you in the kitchen? Please?" he asked, giving Bobby a look that rivaled Sam's patented puppy dog look.

Bobby immediately stepped forward and allowed Dean to lead him out of the living room and into the kitchen. "What the hell is going on with you, boy?" he asked the second they were in the kitchen. His frustration was at an all-time high, too.

"I can't leave, Uncle Bobby. Mr. and Mrs. Fuller need my help."

"Need your help with what?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

Dean looked over towards the living room, making sure that no one was listening in on them. "Uncle Bobby, there's something here. In this house."

"What do you mean by something?"

"It's a ghost or something. I saw it myself, Uncle Bobby. We can't leave them here to face it by themselves!"

"Hold on….. You're telling me that there is a ghost in this house? What makes you think that, Dean?"

Dean spent several minutes telling Bobby all the things that had happened and by the end, Bobby was convinced that something _was_ going on. "So, what? You think I'm gonna just leave you here to take care of whatever this is on your own?"

"I can handle it, Uncle Bobby. I've already done three salt and burns with Dad and I know what to do. But, you need to get Sam out of here."

"Oh, so you've done there salt and burns with your daddy, so you think you're good to go? Think you can handle it all on your own? Is that it?"

"I know I can."

"Dean, there's no way I'm leaving you here to take care of this, so go pack your stuff up and let's get going."

"We can't leave! They're in danger, Uncle Bobby."

"What makes you think that? Has this thing done anything to make you think it's dangerous?"

"No, but…"

"Dean, I'm not arguing that there's something here, because I think there is. But, nothing you've told me so far makes me think it's dangerous. Therefore, we have enough time to get you boys out of here and send someone else to take care of things"

"I'm not going." Dean once again crossed his arms over his chest and stared defiantly up at Bobby.

"Okay, I've had enough, boy, so listen up. We're leaving here right now and I don't want to hear another word from you. Go get your stuff."

Bobby acted like he didn't notice the tears of frustration that filled Dean's eyes. He felt bad for the boy, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Dean take on a ghost all by himself. But he did feel a little bad for the kid. He knew that Dean always felt responsible for those around him and he blamed John for that. John had turned his son into a hunter at too early of an age. Even worse, he had taught Dean to put himself last in every situation.

Dean hesitated to move for a few seconds, but with a gentle prod from Bobby, he finally turned and left the room. Bobby followed behind and entered the living room just in time to see Jake leading the boys to their room. A few minutes later, they were back in the living room, each carrying a backpack full of the things Sarah had bought for them.

Sarah looked at the two boys sadly, her eyes filling with tears. "You two behave, okay?" She reached down and pulled Sam into a hug, squeezing him tightly. "Don't forget to brush your teeth every morning and every night, okay, Sam? You, too, Dean."

"Yes, ma'am." Dean allowed Sarah to pull him into a hug, too, but he wiggled out of it at the sound of Bobby clearing his throat. Turning to leave, he was stopped by Jake's hand landing on his shoulder.

"Dean, if you ever need anything….. anything at all…. You can call us, okay? Our door will always be open to you, I promise."

Dean couldn't find his voice to answer, so he just nodded his head and looked gratefully at Jake. Bobby quickly shook Jake's hand and told him- in a low enough voice that Mrs. Carpenter wouldn't hear- that someone would be back to take care of their supernatural problem. Jake nodded his thanks to the man and just seconds later, they were out the door and on their way.

Dean couldn't help but feel sad at leaving.

* * *

John knew that he should stay in the hospital a little longer, but his need to get to his boys outweighed anything that had to do with his own health. So, after signing an Against Medical Advice form, he made his way out of the hospital. He had no idea where his car was and he didn't have time to look for it, so he moved as far back in the hospital parking lot as he could and hot-wired a 1980 Datsun. He really wanted to steal something a little faster, but he knew he shouldn't draw too much attention to himself.

After a quick stop for coffee and gas, he made a few more phone calls, hoping to finally get some answers on where his boys were and if they were okay. His first phone call to Bobby went unanswered, but his second one to Jim Murphy didn't.

Jim was more than happy to hear that he was mostly okay. John found it comforting to hear his friend's voice, but was disappointed to find that Jim didn't know where his boys were. He listened as patiently as he could while Jim explained that he hadn't been home when the police called on Dean's behalf. He also explained that his calls to Bobby had gone unanswered, too.

After hanging up from that call, John immediately called Bobby again. When he still didn't get an answer, he started to turn back to the car and get back out on the road. Something stopped him, though. His gut was telling him to try calling the motel room one more time and when Bobby actually answered the phone, he was relieved that he had actually listened to his gut.

"Bobby? Where the hell are my boys?!"

"John? Is that you? Are you okay? We've been looking everywhere for you."

"My boys, Bobby. Where are they?"

"They're right here, John. I'm looking right at them."

"Let me talk to Dean," John commanded. Seconds later, he heard Dean answer.

"Dad! Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you answer the phone when I called on Friday, Dean? You know you're supposed to answer the phone." He was surprised by the silence on the other end of the phone. "Dean? Answer me!"

When Dean still didn't say anything else, John started yelling. He hadn't gotten too far into his tirade when Bobby's voice suddenly echoed loudly in his ear. "What are you on about, Winchester? Why are you yelling at Dean?"

"Put him back on the phone, Singer."

"I'm not putting him back on the phone just so you can yell at him some more, John. Not gonna happen."

John growled and let loose with a few curse words. After a few seconds, he calmed himself down enough to continue. "Fine! Just tell me what's going on, Singer. Are they okay?"

"They're fine. Just a little shaken up from everything, I guess."

"What everything? What happened?"

Bobby took several minutes to explain the events at the park and the subsequent trip to the police station and finally to the Fuller's house. By the time he was done explaining, John was equal parts disgusted with himself and angry at Dean for leaving the motel to go to the park in the first place. Reining in his anger, he listened as Bobby gave a full report of what had happened. After he'd calmed down a little more, he asked Bobby to put Dean back on the phone.

"Hey, dad," Dean's soft voice said.

"Dean, I'll be home soon, okay? Just a few more hours."

"I'm sorry, Dad," Dean answered softly.

"We'll talk about it when I get home, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. I'm gonna go and get back on the road. I'll see you soon, son."

Once the call had ended, John quickly climbed into the car and made his way, as quickly and as safely as he could, to his boys.

* * *

Author's note: Apologies all around for the long wait. This chapter was tough for me to write, for some reason. I've been plugging away at it for a bit, since I didn't want you all to have to wait for too long.

In the meantime, I've written a few other stories and I'd love it if you checked them out. One is called Heroes and is about how the Winchesters might have dealt with the events of 9/11. The other one is called Not Before Everything and is Sam's POV from the Devil's Trap episode.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I adore every single one of you and am forever grateful for you all. Take care.


	47. Coming Down From the Gallows

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 47

Coming Down From the Gallows

* * *

It was almost nine o'clock that evening when John finally pulled up to the motel. After talking with Bobby and Dean, he'd driven another full hour before the Datsun he'd hotwired gave up the ghost. He was able to pull off to the side of the highway he had been driving on and then quickly realized just how deserted the highway actually was. Not having any other choice, John took off walking and walked almost five miles before another car drove by.

Luckily, the car stopped and gave him a lift to the nearest town. After thanking the young man for the ride, John waited until he was gone out of sight before hot-wiring a beat-up, but seemingly more reliable Chevy Nova. Stopping for some gas and a cup of coffee, John quickly got back on the road, anxious to get home to his boys.

While he drove, he thought about the story he'd pieced together between Bobby and Dean. As he thought about it, he could feel his blood pressure start to rise as anger took over. Dean _knew_ that he wasn't supposed to take Sammy to the park. He _knew_ that he was supposed to lay low and watch out for his brother. _He knew._ Or at least John thought he did.

John knew that Dean was a good kid. He knew that he tried to follow the rules and do what was expected of him. And he knew that Dean took his responsibilities seriously. More seriously than any kid his age should, actually. And more seriously than most adults would, truth be told. But he also knew that he was, in fact, just a kid, with normal kid tendencies to make poor decisions and misbehave.

John also knew that he was inordinately hard on his boys. Especially Dean. He reasoned with himself that he had to be hard. That too much was at stake to let up even a single bit. That their lives depended on him running a tight ship. However hard he was on the boys, it was because he had to be, not because he wanted to be.

Of course, being a marine meant that he already had expectations that his orders would be carried out without hesitation. That his rules would be followed. That when he told his boys something, they would do what they were told. Plain and simple. Obedience, first and foremost.

He wasn't stupid, though. He knew that Dean worked his way around some of those rules at times. He was pretty sure that there were times when he was gone that the boys didn't stick to their bedtime. He figured there were nights when they stayed up later than they were supposed to, watching movies and reading comic books. He knew that they didn't always stick to the no soda after five o'clock rule or the no candy after dinner rule. He was pretty sure that Dean even skipped school sometimes.

Those rules, in the grand scheme of important things, weren't the most important, though. Sure, they needed adequate amounts of sleep and moderation of soda and candy. And, of course, Dean needed to go to school. But the things that were most important were the things that mattered. Their training schedule. Their laying low so as not to draw attention to themselves. Their ability to follow orders.

So, when those rules were the ones that were broken, John came down harder than he probably should. He hated that it had to be that way, but it had to be that way for a reason.

As he shut off the ignition to the Chevy Nova, he took several deep breaths before opening the door. More than anything, he wanted to hug his boys and never let go. After he woke up in the hospital, he realized how close he'd come to never seeing them again. And then after hearing Bobby recounting what Sam and Dean had recently gone through, it hit him even harder. He had come so close to losing everything that was important to him and he had to make absolute sure that it never happened again. He had to.

* * *

Sam was sleeping on the small sofa, his head laying in Dean's lap and his legs draped across Bobby's. Bobby tried to get both boys to go to sleep, reassuring them that he would wake them when John returned, but both boys had initially refused. He knew that Sam would have gone to bed if Dean had, but there was no way he could talk Dean into sleeping.

The boy was a ball of nerves and Bobby knew that he was a little scared to face his father. Not that Dean was actually afraid of his father, but no kid in the history of the world ever wanted to face their dad when they knew they'd screwed up.

And Dean did screw up. Bobby knew that as well as Dean did. Even though Dean insisted that his dad never said they couldn't go to the park, they both knew that the man expected them to stay put in the motel room.

Bobby, however, understood why Dean had done what he did. And he hated John Winchester a little bit more for it. Sure, it was easy to expect the boys to stay inside, stay hidden, but it wasn't easy for the boys. They were kids, after all. Sitting in a motel room with nothing to do was a sure fire way to get them to do something they weren't supposed to do. And that's exactly what happened.

And Bobby was no idjit. He knew that if it had just been Dean, the boy would have done exactly what was expected of him. But with Sammy there, everything was different. Dean was responsible for Sam's safety and he took that responsibility seriously. But he was also responsible for Sam emotionally. He did whatever he could to make sure that Sam was happy, too. And if a little trip to the park was going to make Sam happy after being holed up inside a motel room for days on end….. Well, Dean did what he had to do.

And now here they were. Sam and Dean had been traumatized by what had happened at the park and the subsequent fall out with Child Protective Services. Luckily, they'd been placed with a nice family and Bobby was extremely thankful for that. He knew that things could have gone so much worse in that department. But, they were still traumatized by that, Dean more than Sam, of course. Because Sam was okay, as long as Dean was there with him. That's all he really needed. He knew that Dean would take care of him, no matter what.

Bobby could tell from the first second he'd laid eyes on Dean in the Fuller's house that the boy was on high alert. Even though he appeared comfortable with Sarah and Jake, he'd still been in protective big brother mode. Bobby could tell by the way his eyes never strayed too far away from his brother and by how he always seemed to place himself between Sam and whatever was in front of them. He could tell by the way Dean's body appeared tense and coiled, as if he was ready to pounce on whatever threat appeared in front of him at a second's notice.

And then to add on to all that stress, the boy had been adamant that something was in the Fuller's house. Something that needed to be hunted. Bobby wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. The boys finally got a chance to experience something close to normal and there was a ghost in the house. The Winchesters were cursed, if you asked him.

With Sam sleeping on the sofa between them, Bobby and Dean were settled in as comfortably as they could, watching some old western on television. Bobby could tell that Dean's mind wasn't completely focused on the movie and he figured that the boy was thinking about the Fullers. He hadn't wanted to leave without making sure they were safe and it had taken everything Bobby had in him to convince Dean that someone would take care of it. But that didn't stop Dean from obsessing over it. He took after his father in that regard.

The movie had just ended when they heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the motel room. Bobby didn't miss the way Dean tensed up and shifted himself straighter on the couch. "Sounds like your daddy's home, Dean," he said simply as he tried to extricate himself from under Sam's legs.

Just seconds later, the motel room door opened and John stepped into the room.

* * *

Dean, who had somehow extricated himself from under Sam's head without waking him up, stood up and nervously faced his father. There was a blanket of awkwardness filling the air for a few seconds until Dean couldn't take it anymore and bolted over to his father. John seemed surprised to find his arms full of his oldest son and it took him several seconds to return the hug. Dean was pretty sure his heart shattered in those seconds as he wondered if he'd finally disappointed his father so much that the man didn't love him anymore.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he cried, his face buried in the man's shirt.

John held onto his son a little longer and then gently pushed him away. He was surprised to see the tears on Dean's face since they boy would usually do everything he could not to cry in front of his dad. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sir. And Sam is, too. He's asleep."

John looked over to the small form of his youngest on the sofa and then looked up at Bobby. "Bobby, thanks for getting the boys for me."

Bobby didn't answer, but gave John a short nod. John turned his attention back to Dean. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then…. It's time for bed, Dean. Bobby and I need to talk and you boys have school in the morning."

"Dad….."

"Bed, Dean," John ordered.

Dean knew better than to argue so he went over to his duffle and pulled out his pajamas, taking them into the bathroom to get changed and brush his teeth. Once he was done, he went over to the bed and climbed in. John had already put Sam in bed, so when Dean found his way under the blanket, Sam curled up into his side. John looked down at both of his boys, a mixture of emotions playing across his face.

"Go to sleep, Dean. When you get home from school tomorrow, we're going to have a long talk, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Dean closed his eyes, but then immediately opened them again, watching as his dad and Bobby moved over to the door. "Wait!" he called out. "Where are you going, Dad?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Dean. Bobby and I are just going to sit outside for a while. We need to discuss some things and I want you to go to sleep. I'll leave the door open a little, okay?"

Dean settled back into the bed and closed his eyes. He focused on the low murmuring he could hear coming from just outside the motel room and he tried to make out what they were talking about. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to be able to make out what they were saying, he allowed the low susurrations to finally lull him into a fitful sleep.

* * *

When Dean woke up the next morning, he wasn't surprised to find that he had a headache. His sleep had been disturbed numerous times by nightmares and he knew it was going to be a long day. He really didn't feel like going to school, but he didn't want to stay home and face his father, either. That time would come soon enough and he wasn't quite ready for it yet. _Not that he'd ever really be ready for it._

Dean knew that his father was really mad at him and he didn't blame him. He had messed up so much and he knew he didn't deserve any less than what was coming to him. And he was determined to face up to it like a man. Like a Winchester. He'd already cried once in front of his dad and he had no intention of doing that again.

Of course, he knew deep down that if his father decided he deserved a spanking, he'd definitely be crying again. No one lived through a John Winchester butt-warming without a few tears. But, the good thing was that his dad didn't expect him _not_ to cry. In fact, he suspected that his dad used the appearance of tears as a guide to how effective the spanking was.

So, not wanting to face his father's wrath any earlier than he had to, Dean got up and started getting ready for school. Sam was still sleeping and it sounded like his dad was in the shower, so Dean quickly got dressed and moved over to wake Sam up.

It took Sam a few minutes to fully wake up and the first words out of his mouth once he was fully awake was "Is Dad home?' Once Dean assured his brother that he was, Sam jumped up and got dressed as quickly as he could. He was just pulling on his pants when the bathroom door opened and John walked out. Sam stood up so quickly that he tripped over the legs of his jeans and fell to the floor. Dean couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny, Dean!" Sam yelled at his brother as he tried to pull himself to his feet. Once he was standing, he pulled his jeans up and then threw himself at John. "Daddy!"

"Hey, kiddo." John suddenly found his arms full of a squirming boy and held onto him tightly. "Did you sleep okay?"

"No, 'cause Dean kept hogging the blankets."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes-huh."

"I did not!"

"You did, too, jerk!"

"That's enough!" John interjected, smacking Sam slightly on the rear as he sent a warning look to Dean.

Sam immediately responded with an "Ow!" and Dean quickly made his way into the bathroom before his dad decided he deserved a smack, too.

When Dean came out of the bathroom, he sat down at the small table and poured himself a bowl of cereal. Sam was sitting at the table, too, still pouting from the smack his dad had given him.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said quietly. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble. And I'll try not to hog the blankets anymore, okay?"

Sam's face lit up at the apology. "Okay, Dean."

They ate their cereal in silence while John sat next to them, drinking a cup of coffee. Dean finally broke the silence. "Where's Uncle Bobby? He didn't even say goodbye."

"He'll be back. He and Caleb went to retrieve the Impala for me. Until then, we'll use his car." John didn't mention the fact that he'd stolen a car and that Bobby had also taken the time to dispose of the stolen Chevy Nova before they left.

Once they were done with their breakfast, John ordered them to brush their teeth and then hightail it out to the car before they were late for school. Both boys didn't waste any time in doing what they were told and within ten minutes they were on their way to school.

As they pulled up in front of the school, John turned to look at them both. "I'll be here to pick you up at 2:30. Don't be late. And Dean? Stay out of trouble, you hear? You're already in enough, as it is."

"Yes, sir," Dean said as his face blushed a bright shade of red. "Let's go, Sammy." He helped Sam out of the car and grabbed his arm, leading him to the school. For the first time ever, he really wished that the school day wouldn't end. He really wasn't looking forward to going home again.

* * *

Author's note: Here you go, y'all. I'm sorry for the wait and for the shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. I'm not through with the Fuller family, just so you know. We will be revisiting them and their little ghost problem in the future.

I'd love to know some of your speculations on how John is going to deal with the boys. Will he be his normal hard-assed self? Or will he take into consideration the situation and how he contributed to it all? Any ideas?

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are amazing.


	48. Out of the Frying Pan

Watch Out For Sammy

Chapter 48

Out of the Frying Pan

* * *

Dean couldn't believe his luck. First, he was in big trouble at home, and now he was in big trouble at school, too. And it wasn't even his fault. Well, some of it was, but the majority of it was all a big misunderstanding. Not that his dad would care at all about that.

His bad day started even before the first recess of the day. They had a spelling test that morning and he almost completely bombed it, thanks to the weekend he'd had. In the grand scheme of everything, Dean knew that failing a spelling test wasn't that important, but he still hated it. His most recent grade in spelling was an A and he had been excited to show his dad his report card. Now, there was no chance that he'd get an A, which meant no chance to make his dad proud of him for a change.

After recess, Dean sat down at his desk with a groan. Their next subject was English and he hated the subject. As he listened to Mr. Daniels talking about the process of summarization, Dean felt his eyes starting to close. He hadn't slept well the night before and his head was hurting a little. He thought that if he could just close his eyes and shut out the light and the sound of Mr. Daniels' voice, he'd be okay. What he didn't account for, though, was the fact that Mr. Daniels wouldn't be happy if he fell asleep.

And that's exactly what he did, of course. Fifteen minutes into the English lesson, Dean's chin was resting on his chest and a light snore could be heard by those closest to him. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but the complete absence of any sound around him eventually woke him up. When he finally completely woke up, his eyes popped open to find Mr. Daniels leaning against the desk in front of him, staring him down.

"Good morning, Mr. Winchester. Sleep well?"

Dean sat up even straighter in his seat and wiped away the small trail of drool that escaped the left side of his mouth. He could hear the giggles of his classmates and he couldn't stop the blush that crept up his neck and face. "Sorry, sir," he said softly.

Mr. Daniels took several seconds to study Dean, taking in the dark shadows under his eyes and the underlying paleness of his skin. Just when Dean was starting to get uncomfortable, the man stood up and went back to the front of the class. Dean did everything he could to keep himself awake after that. And he thought he was doing a good job until he felt himself jerk awake after dozing off again.

He hoped that no one noticed that he'd fallen asleep again, but it was obvious by the way Mr. Daniels was looking at him that he'd noticed. Dean sat up as straight as he could in his seat and forced himself to focus on what his teacher was saying. He could almost feel his eyes cross occasionally, but he was at least able to stay awake until the lunch bell rang.

He was almost out of his seat when he heard Mr. Daniels call his name. "Mr. Winchester? I'd like a word, please."

Dean had the urge to just blurt out a word and make his way out the door, but he knew that would just get him in even more trouble. Instead, he lingered at his desk until the last of his classmates was out of the room and then made his way up to the front of the room. He stopped a little ways in front of the desk where Mr. Daniels was standing.

"What's going on with you, Dean? It's not like you to fall asleep in class."

"I'm sorry, sir," Dean said as he stared down at the cluttered desk. "It won't happen again."

"I'm glad to hear that, Dean, but I'm worried about you. Is everything okay at home?"

Dean's heart rate started to climb. He knew it wasn't ever a good thing when someone started to ask about his home life. He knew that his dad would be mad if he found out that he had done something to draw attention to himself. "Yes, sir," he finally answered. "Everything at home is good. I just didn't sleep good last night, I guess."

Mr. Daniels seemed to be studying him and he couldn't help but fidget uncomfortably under the man's gaze.

"Maybe you could try to go to bed a little earlier tonight, Dean. Get some extra sleep."

"Yes, sir." Dean was eager to go to lunch so he could check on his brother, but Mr. Daniels wasn't quite done with him.

"What happened with your spelling test? You've been doing so well on them so far, but this one….. Well, you only got two correct, Dean."

Dean really didn't know what to say since he really didn't want to have to explain everything that had happened over the weekend. "I guess I forgot to study," he mumbled softly as he continued to fidget.

Mr. Daniels continued to study him for another few seconds. "Well, there's always next week, Dean. I have complete confidence in you and I know that you'll study hard for the next one."

Dean's eyes flew up to the man, surprised to hear him say that he had confidence in him. He hadn't heard those words come out of too many peoples' mouths in his young life and he really didn't know what to make of it. "I will. I swear," he finally said.

"You better get on to lunch. You don't want to miss out on those chili fries, do you?"

Dean smiled as he headed out to the cafeteria. He could feel his teacher's eyes on his back, but he didn't care. He suddenly felt a whole new sense of optimism, even though he knew that chili fries weren't in his future.

* * *

Knowing that his lunch account was empty, Dean stepped in line for the ham and cheese sandwich they provided to those who didn't have money. Not only was he missing out on the delicious smelling chili fries, but he also missed out on the opportunity to have chocolate milk, having to settle for regular milk instead.

As he got out of line, he looked over the cafeteria, eager to find Sam somewhere in the crowd. When he didn't see his brother anywhere near his usual table, Dean started to get nervous. As he walked through the cafeteria, a few of his classmates called out to him to join them, but he ignored them.

The more he looked without finding his brother, the more freaked out he became. The last time he'd been held up by a well-meaning teacher, his little brother had very nearly been taken by a shapeshifter. Now, Dean's imagination was running wild and panic threatened to overwhelm him. He was just about to drop the tray he was carrying when he heard the sound of Sam's voice calling for him. Turning around, he saw his brother walking towards him with a huge smile on his face.

Dean strode forward towards his brother, grabbing him by the arm the second he was within reach. "Where were you?" he nearly yelled, surprising Sam and everyone around them.

"Dean! Let go!" Sam tried to pull his arm out of his brother's grip, but Dean was too strong for him. "Dean! You're hurting me!"

Those words seemed to bring Dean out of whatever state he was in because he immediately dropped Sam's arm. Before he could say anything to his brother, though, one of the cafeteria aids arrived, demanding to know what was going on.

"Nothing," Dean answered, but he could tell that the woman didn't believe him.

"I saw you grab his arm," she answered angrily. "Shame on you for picking on someone younger than you."

"I wasn't picking on him," Dean said. At the same time, Sam said, "He wasn't picking on me!"

The cafeteria worker didn't seem to care what either of them were saying and Dean knew that she had already made up her mind about the situation. "Come with me," she said as she turned to walk out of the cafeteria, obviously expecting Dean to follow. Dean sat his tray down on the nearest table, motioning for Sam to sit down and eat, before turning to follow the woman. After a few steps, he turned to see Sam following him.

"Sam, you need to stay here and eat some lunch. I'll be okay."

"I need to go with you! I'll tell Miss Nichols that you didn't do anything, Dean."

"Stay here, Sam. You need to eat. I can handle Miss Nichols."

Sam reluctantly sat down at the table and pulled the tray of food closer to him. Dean turned back to the woman, who was waiting impatiently at the door. Once they were out of the cafeteria, she started talking, complaining about how tired she was of bullies picking on little kids. Dean tried his best to ignore her, but when she started in on how tired she was of disrespectful little punks, Dean couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"I'm not a punk," he said, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"Let's go," the woman said, motioning for him to follow her. Dean stood still, trying to get his emotions under control. He wasn't having a good day and he was really tired of this woman treating him like he wasn't worth her time. He knew he needed to watch himself, but he was more than frustrated with everything. This woman's attitude was just the icing on the cake.

When he didn't move to follow her, she turned and looked angrily back at him. "I said, let's go!"

Dean hesitated for one second too long, because in the next second, she stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm. Dean was too surprised at first to do anything, but after a few seconds, he came to his senses and pulled his arm out of her grasp. "Don't touch me!" he yelled as he scrambled backwards. He moved back as far as he could, but eventually his back was against a bank of lockers.

The woman stepped towards him again and finally, Dean snapped. At the fact that this woman wasn't listening to him. At the fact that he couldn't just go to school without the fear of some monster taking his brother away from him. At the unfairness of everything that made up the tragedy that was his life.

Without another word, Dean turned and ran down the hallway and through the nearest door, exiting the building and running away as fast as he could.

* * *

John was just finishing up the much needed tune-up on the Impala and was checking out the damage to the body that occurred during the accident when he heard the phone ringing. Bobby and Caleb were both looking into whatever was going on at the Fuller's house, but John really didn't want to have anything to do with them. While he was thankful that they had taken his boys in and watched over them when he couldn't, he really didn't have a desire to become involved with them any more than that.

Wiping his hands on the rag he had in his back pocket, John made his way inside to answer the phone. "Winchester," he said as a way of answering.

"Mr. Winchester, this is Principal Nichols from your sons' school."

John's heart sped up at the sound of her voice. "What happened? Are my boys okay?"

There was a slight hesitation which made John's heart beat even harder and faster. "Sam is fine, Mr. Winchester. He's at recess right now with his class."

After another hesitation, John spoke up. "And Dean? Is he okay?"

"Mr. Winchester, Dean….. Well, Dean left school grounds about five minutes ago. We followed him, but he was able to get away somehow."

"What do you mean he left school grounds? What happened? Why would he do that?"

"Mr. Winchester, I think it would be better if you came to the school. We can talk about it here."

John didn't even answer her and before she even knew it, he had dropped the phone and was out the door, cursing loudly as he wondered what the hell his son was thinking.

* * *

Author's note: A little shorter than normal, but this seemed like a good stopping place. And as usual, I'm going to say "poor Dean." The kid just can't seem to keep himself out of trouble, can he? And this time, it was really only partly his fault, right? I'm not sure if John will see it that way, since they still haven't dealt with the previous bit of trouble. I'm thinking the poor kid needs a break, but I don't know if I have it in me to give it to him, lol.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter.


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